Petrified Tears
by Panabelle
Summary: ~*Finally Finished*~ After MIA for four years, Pan returns home. But caught between Trunks, her father, and everyone else, life's more emotional than it should be. (quasi-sequel to ty2d and tm2f)
1. Prologue: Strangers in a Sea of Needs

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ. I only own my Chibi Trunks Action figure. He keeps me company when I'm lonely. He's my best friend.  
  
A/N: Well, yes I know I threatened that no more fanfics would be coming from me anytime soon or ever again, whichever came first, but I lied. My life isn't taking off without me, yet, and so I thought I'd apologize with this. I'm sorry for the confusion left by my last note on TM2F, I have no excuse for that, I was just feeling a little disgruntled from the lack of reviews. I'm sorry guys. Currently I'm calling this "Petrified Tears", but I don't much like the title, it doesn't fit with my pattern. I'll change it later when inspiration hits me like a roundhouse kick to the head.  
  
Now, on with the fic.  
  
BTW: *~* = flashback, * = thought, ~ = word(s) needing emphasis.  
  
****************************  
Petrified Tears  
prologue  
  
  
Through the picture window she could see him, fast asleep in his chair, his hands holding the paper, that lay across his chest, in place, his head tilted to the side. His black rimmed glasses sat on the table behind him, resting peacefully in the soft light thrown by the quiet and unobtrusive light that towered lovingly above his spectacles.  
  
The girl sighed as she relaxed back into the seat, letting the gentle breeze flowing through the trees take her hurt away. Things were always peaceful here, no matter what had happened outside of this valley, no matter what ~was~ happening outside of this valley, for surely there had been and would be times where the outside world was reduced to chaos and fear, but it was always peaceful here, that simple sense of belonging that made everything slip away.  
  
Her companion drummed on the broken steering wheel, staring at the odometer, oblivious to her. She sighed, shaking her hair, smiling at the sand that sifted out of it, falling to the ground as she pushed the door open. She made no move to get out of the car yet.  
  
Something was unsaid between them, something that desperately needed to be said, but one was too angry, the other too put out, to say it.  
  
They were strangers now.  
  
Strangers passing through a sea of needs, strangers that knew each other inside and out.  
  
Strangers that didn't know each other at all...not anymore.  
  
********************  
  
A/N: I know it's short. I have to go chastise my action figure; Chibi Trunks is attacking my toaster.  
  
Please review!  
  
-Panabelle ;P  
saiyansquirt@hotmail.com www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers/  



	2. Chapter 1: Inner Struggle Lost

Disclaimer: I didn't create DBZ. If I did, I'd be mother to my Chibi Trunks Action figure. NO. He's promised to take me to jr. prom this year. I don't have the heart to tell him that my school sucks and doesn't put on a jr. prom.  
  
A/N: I don't know why I'm sticking a note here, I just am. Couldn't tell you why for the life of me. I just am.  
  
BTW: Anything surrounded by *'s is a thought or a phrase repeated in a character's head. Anything in ~'s needs emphasis. There are no flashbacks.  
  
**************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter one   
  
He sat, fighting.  
  
He didn't know what he was fighting, he just ~was~. Actually, he ~did~ know what he was fighting-against. But he didn't understand what had won in this battle, what he had lost, and what he was sure to win or lose.  
  
He wasn't sure he ~wanted~ to know what he'd lost, what had won. Either way, when you really thought about it, he lost.  
  
He was trying not to think about it.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as his companion pushed her door open, sand falling from her hair as she ran a hand through it. Frustrated, he palmed the wheel with his hands, trying not to envision himself with those little grains of fossilized tears, falling away from her forever, never to touch her skin again, never to comfort her, assure her that she wasn't the first to cry.  
  
It was hard not to.  
  
She turned to push herself out of the car, pulling herself to her feet in a graceful and fluid motion, her legs shaky, but still supporting her easily. Anyone else wouldn't have noted the unsteady twitch in her calves, except for maybe the man inside her house, asleep behind the newspaper. But he knew her inside and out, he saw the twitch without seeing it.  
  
That was just it though, and he couldn't deny it.  
  
He ~knew~ her inside and out.  
  
He didn't know her like that any longer.  
  
Hadn't for a long time.  
  
She paused before turning to close the door, and he looked up at her, his face a pitiful mess, his hair disheveled and his eyes distraught. A faint smile touched her lips, but it was nothing like she used to smile for him, it wasn't the smile that he'd fallen in love with, the smile that lit up her face and made her eyes shine like all the beauty in the world.  
  
No, it was just a faint smile that touched her lips, fading away before it could light imperceptibly in her eyes. But her face wasn't so dark anymore, wasn't so pained. Hurt still, yes, but seemingly bearably so.  
  
"Hey," she said quietly, so quietly he could barely hear her, and he doubted that if his heart had been beating any louder, he wouldn't have heard her. "Look, I'm...I'm sorry. I had no right to act like that."  
  
He swallowed, and thought he felt a flutter in his chest. She turned her eyes to look at the man that could be seen sleeping through the picture window at the front of her house.  
  
"Listen," she continued after a moment, still not looking at him. She lowered her face, looking away from him, and he could almost see tears glinting in her eyes. But he didn't see well enough to know for sure. "I-I...I just wanted to say that...and that...if I acted so childish...that's because that's what I am...a kid trying to pretend she's a woman." She laughed bitterly to herself as she looked back to the man in the window. "But then, I never acted like a little girl. It shouldn't surprise me that I acted like that tonight at all."  
  
The sarcasm was gone. She didn't mean to slap him in the face with her words, but she did.  
  
She looked back to him and flashed him a quick smile, but it was forced. Her eyes shimmered in his line of vision, her face didn't glow. "Thanks for dinner. Thanks for tonight, too. It's nice to know we're still friends."  
  
She leaned in, giving him a quick hug before pulling herself back and closing the door behind her, padding quickly up the front walk, shoes in hand, into her home and out of his life.  
  
He swallowed thickly, taking the car out of park.  
  
He drove home in silence, racing faster then was probably safe for his convertible, his hair whipping angrily about his head, his eyes watering from the ground speed, his eyes tearing from the heart ache. Halfway home, he swung the car off of the road, nearly spinning it into a ditch, but swerving the other way before stopping the car and breaking down.  
  
Sitting in the middle of the highway, he lowered his face into his hands, his shoulders quaking with the effort it took to breathe, with the effort it took to let it out.  
  
He couldn't hear his heart anymore...it wasn't pounding like it had been pounding earlier, so loud it could deafen the dead. It wasn't even pounding any longer.  
  
It was dying.  
  
~He~ was dying.  
  
And it didn't take much to wonder why.  
  
Resting in the passenger seat next to him, crumpled, forlorn, and forgotten, a tribute to another time he thought she'd never leave completely behind, lay a part of her.  
  
The part of her that he had waited four long years for her to grow away from, to set aside, but not forget.  
  
*I acted so childish...that's what I am...I'm sorry.*  
  
And then she had walked away.  
  
But not a little girl.  
  
And never to return to him.  
  
***************************  
  
A/N: So that's this chapter. Sorry that it's so short, the prologue's pretty short too. But the way I'm writing this one, the first three or four chapters are gonna be really short, but I'll more then likely get the first four out tonight...unless I get kicked offline, or Chibi Trunks wants to spar.  
  
Yes, I know, I'm sad 'cause I talk to my action figure. But I can't help it! As big a brat as he is, he's just such a cutie and a sweetheart! I just need to figure out how to break it to him that I don't have a jr. prom to go to, and that I just can't bust in on the senior ball.  
  
I'll try and get the next chapter out tonight, but no promises.  
  
-Panabelle ;P  



	3. Chapter 2: No More Little Girl

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ. I don't own DB either. I ~certainly~ don't own DBGT. All I own is a Chibi Trunks action figure. He loves me very much and asked me to marry him this evening.  
  
A/N: Again, I have nothing to say.  
  
BTW: ~'s symbolize words that need to be stressed. *'s symbolize thoughts or words a character has already said. *~*'s are flashbacks, but there are no flashbacks in this.  
  
******************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 2  
  
She paused in the darkness of the shadows thrown by the doorway. He couldn't see her, and she'd completely melted out of existence.  
  
She hadn't meant to sound so hateful and spiteful when apologizing, but she had. She regretted it, but there was nothing she could do. Sighing again, she knelt and pulled on her socks, trying not to notice the lines of dried blood on her hands and fingers, trying not to feel the lines that she knew were on her arms. She wouldn't bother with her shoes, her father would only hear her if she slipped tried to sneak across the hardwood floor in thick-soled sneakers.  
  
Absently running a hand through her hair, she eased the door open, her shoulders stiff, anticipating a creak. She glanced to the clock on the wall and quietly sucked in a breath between her teeth as it revealed to her that she was half an hour past curfew. Holding her breath, she slipped inside, closing the door behind her, wincing sharply as it squeaked in protest, ratting her out.  
  
Her head whipped around to look at her father, but he was still asleep, the paper across his chest, hands relaxed, his eyes closed and fluttering gently. His glasses sat on the table next to his chair, glinting in the quiet.  
  
She set her shoes next to the door and started up the stairs, but paused as she looked back at her father.  
  
He really was the best father she'd ever could have asked for. He'd never asked her to change, or expected too much of her. He always knew what she was capable of, and managed to push her just beyond. He'd always been there for her, no matter what.  
  
But not this time, she wouldn't allow him to help her with this.  
  
Smiling to herself, though still troubled, she tiptoed into the living room, to where his chair sat in the glow of the table lamp that made him seem a regular father, rather then the terrific and selfless father he really was. Most fathers would give anything for their children. He wouldn't...he had already done so.  
  
She turned out the light, and his eyelids fluttered dangerously on the verge of waking up, but then relaxed back into dreamland. The half-hearted smile grew warmer, more meaningful. It didn't fill her face like it once had, but it still brought the twinkle back to her eyes, even if the twinkle was a little sad.  
  
Setting a hand on the arm of the chair and the other on the back, she leaned over and kissed her father's forehead. "I love you Daddy, you're the greatest," she whispered, pulling back and looking down at him with all the love that a daughter can possess for her father.  
  
Silently, she slipped past him and continued to her room. She shrugged off her jacket, hanging it up on the back of her desk chair. Quietly, she slipped into her closet, slipping out of the clothes she wore, and into a more comfortable pair of drawstring pants and an oversized long-sleeved tee-shirt. Too late she remembered why the shirt was too big, too late she remembered who she had stolen it from.  
  
The tears threatened to come then, but she wouldn't let them. Instead, she backed out of the closet and went to her window, opening it, and climbing out onto the roof. She walked along until she reached the edge, then jumped silently and precisely to the dome of silky white that was the roof to her grandmother's house.  
  
She sat down, hugging her knees to her chest, letting the starlight fall down on her, letting it soak into her, take her pride and her pain away.  
  
She ran a hand back through her hair, and paused, her fingers lost in the black midnight strands. It wasn't there.  
  
She knew she hadn't left it at the beach, and she'd definitely had it after they'd left dinner...which meant that...that it was in his car.  
  
Sighing, she leaning back onto her knees.  
  
*As great a kid you are...*  
  
She broke down then, and let everything go.  
  
Everything.  
  
******************  
A/N: Do you hate me yet? I know it's short, I said last chapter that it would be, they'll be short for a while now, simply because of time, and simply because I have been ~really~ depressed lately, and I have no idea why...as if this entire story hasn't alluded to that already. No, this is not the ending of it. Don't worry, I may be evil with the cliff hangers, but I can't leave a story like this...authors that take cop-outs don't take pride in their work. Personally, finishing a story with absolute closure is more for the author then the reader. Anywayz, enough of that. I hope you enjoyed this, I'll try to keep you from waiting too long.  
  
By the by...you wouldn't happen to know what's happened to these two strangers, would you? ;P  
  
-Panabelle ;P  



	4. Chapter 3: Daddy

Disclaimer: I own nothing, not even my Chibi Trunks action figure...he doesn't like having an "owner"...so I'm now his manager.  
  
A/N: I wish I knew where I was taking this...but as of right now, this is taking ~me~ along for the ride. Please, read and review...please?  
  
BTW: ~ = word w/emphasis * = thought/repeated phrase *~* = flashback  
  
*******************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 3  
  
  
He heard the car pull up front, but didn't open his eyes. He knew his daughter had a thing for the man she'd gone out with tonight, and if the anger that he could feel as the car pulled up, was hers, then either her companion would not be in any shape to drive home, or she'd fly up the steps and into the door, head for her room and then the roof.  
  
It was quite a few minutes before the car pulled away, and then a minute or two longer before he felt a breeze on his cheek sweeping in through the cracked door.  
  
She was quiet and sly, he'd give her that, but their front door never was. It creaked as she pushed it shut, and he heard her inhale sharply and quietly.  
  
But he still didn't move.  
  
Her anger was gone now, but he still knew that she was hurting from whatever her date had done to her...date. He didn't like that word. ~Friend~ was more appropriate, easier to accept, but wasn't true. Not anymore.  
  
He didn't hear her leave the room, and when the light next to him suddenly cut out, it took every ounce of will-power to keep his eyes from flying open. But he kept them closed with a sense of effort.  
  
He felt her lean down, plant a kiss on his forehead.  
  
"I love you Daddy, you're the greatest," she whispered before quietly slipping upstairs and to her room.  
  
He opened his eyes, hate coating them.  
  
He'd hurt her. That bastard that had taken her out this evening had hurt her.  
  
He sighed, folding the paper that had been across his chest, dropping it onto the floor to the side of it. It was too late to properly dispose of it, and besides, he wasn't finished reading it.  
  
But most importantly, he was worried about his daughter.  
  
He could hear her, with senses amplified by fatherly love, upstairs, whimpering quietly as she pushed her window open and slipped out into the night onto the roof. Leaving his glasses on the table, he moved to the window, leaning against the side of it, angling himself so that he could see her profile against the night sky. She hugged her knees, crying quietly, but not in raking, painful sobs.  
  
That bastard had hurt her. He knew it now, without a doubt. But there was nothing he could do.  
  
She didn't want him to know, wanted to take care of it herself. If she'd wanted his help, she would have said something more then "I love you Daddy, you're the greatest."  
  
He respected her decision to deal with this herself. He knew her, knew that if she needed help she'd never confess to it, but that she'd break down and tell him once it grew too much for her to bear. Besides, she was an adult now, he couldn't always be her protector, couldn't always be there to catch her when she fell, to stop the bad things from happening to her, or to go out and beat the snot out of whatever boy it was that had hurt her.  
  
This time, he had to ~wait~ for her to tell him what had happened before he went and attacked her "date" for this evening.  
  
He scowled at the word, but other words filled his mind instead.  
  
*I love you Daddy, you're the greatest.*  
  
He smiled, watching her as she wiped her eyes, resting her chin on her knees. She'd fall asleep out there, like she always did, but he couldn't help that. This time, though, he wouldn't go out and take her back to her room. He respected her decision not to tell him, and would act as if he had never known she was outside.  
  
*You're the greatest.*  
  
Even though she was his little girl, she'd grown up.  
  
*Daddy.*  
  
But not completely, not yet.  
  
**************************  
A/N: Yes...I am still kinda depressed, but I'll get over it...anywayz, hope you enjoyed! This chapter was for all of the people who thought I was a Gohan-hater. I'm not. Personally, I think Gohan is one of the most understanding guys in DBW (W stands for whatever, meaning DB, DBZ, and DBGT). Which is pretty predictable, considering his own father. :P Anyway, that's all I have to say for this one. Hope you enjoyed.  
  
Please Review.  
  
-Panabelle ;P  



	5. Chapter 4: Unveiling

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ or DBGT or DB, and I know no one that does...except my Chibi Trunks action figure claims he does, but we all know he's lying. *ducks* Don't hurt me! They don't need to know the truth!....Aww...I love you too, Chibi Trunks. ;P  
  
A/N: Wowwie...I got out another chapter. But you guys gotsta review. Please? My weekends are only so long, and reviews help to motivate me. So review, please? Oh, yeah! And I wouldn't mind if people visited this 'lil ol' site: www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers.....it's my site and I'm proud of it. But I'd rather your review. Thanks!  
  
BTW: Anything in ~'s needs emphasis. If you see anything in *'s, it's a thought or repeated phrase. *~*'s mark the beginning and end of flashbacks, but don't worry, 'cause there aren't any in this chap.  
  
***********************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 4  
  
Her neck hurt, there was a crink in it that just wouldn't go away.  
  
Pan sat up, rubbing the back of her neck, and winced as she tore raw flesh.  
  
"Ow!" she hissed, pulling her head off of her knees and pushing at it, popping it with two loud snaps to either side.  
  
Why she hurt she couldn't figure out, and the most puzzling question was the raw skin she had just reopened. She moved her hand in front of her face, confused at the semi-healed gashes in her palm, the lines of dried blood on her hands and fingers, why the cuffs of the shirt she'd stolen from Trunks were stained...  
  
Ah, that was it. Trunks.  
  
*As great a kid you are...You know what ~I~ think, Panny? I think you want me to...I just can't see us happening in ~that~ way...*  
  
Sighing, she remembered the kiss, and then the terrible hurting anger...her heart dying, and telling him that it was alright, she understood...turning off the downstairs light and sneaking out onto the roof.  
  
But it didn't make sense. Her father had been asleep downstairs and had surely woke up sometime after she retreated up the stairs and to her room...and yet, here she was, still on the roof. *Did he not wake up? For once?* she thought to herself, feeling a single tear trace the line of her jaw as she though of what had happened between her and Trunks last night. *Or does he not know I'm up here?*  
  
She wiped the tear away with a sleeve, and pushed herself to her feet, lightly jumping off and landing on the ground below with a quiet and delicate ~whump~.  
  
Yawning and stretching her stiff and aching limbs, she opened her front door and stepped inside. The living room was empty, aside from her father's discarded paper lying on the ground next to his chair, neatly folded, but wrinkled from his slumber. Shaking her head and laughing quietly to herself, Pan crossed the living room, and picked up the paper to toss it in the basket with the others.  
  
As she knelt to pick it up, a picture on the front page drew her attention.  
  
~CC President to unveil new invention tomorrow at dark!~ screamed the caption, under a large picture of a blushing and shy Trunks. He was standing in the Capsule Corps conference room, his hand frozen at his glasses, Bulma beside him with a stern look on her face, as if to say that he had no say in the matter whatsoever.  
  
"Panny? I didn't hear you come downstairs." Gohan's words jolted her out of her reverie, and she started, realizing that she had been staring at the picture for quite a while.  
  
"I...I was outside, Daddy. That's probably why."  
  
"Oh." He walked over to her, innocently oblivious, like always, beaming. She casually smooth the paper on her knees and tossed it into his chair. "Panny? Is something wrong?"  
  
"Wrong?" she repeated, looking up at him curiously. Dimly, she was aware that anything "wrong" would be last night, and what had happened between her and Trunks, but for some reason, it didn't bother her as much as she'd thought it would. She blinked curiously, and lowered her head to stare at the paper on her father's chair. It had landed ever so perfectly, and Trunks' face looked up at hers, begging she rescue him.  
  
She smiled to herself. "No, Daddy, nothing's wrong. Why would you think that?"  
  
Gohan's eyes darted to the paper before they locked on hers, but Pan didn't miss it. She pretended she did.  
  
"Panny, you're awfully subdued this morning...not to mention that you got home late last night." It was just fatherly concern in his voice, but Pan heard the glint of Daddy-trying-to-find-out-what-had-happened-so-that-he-could-make-it-better-by-beating-Trunks-to-a-bloody-pulp that he tried to hide.  
  
"I'm still a little tired, that's all. And nothing happened last night, Trunks and I just went to the beach and talked about life and Grandpa Goku." Gohan seemed to soften, and Pan stepped closer to her father and ducked into his arms the second he held them out to her.  
  
The tears came again, but not as rapidly, and less painfully, then the night before. She missed her grandfather, but missing him would never bring him back.  
  
"I'm sorry, Panny," Gohan mumbled into her hair, and his words took all of the pain away, all of the anger, leaving her vulerable and exposed. But it was nice...so much easier then hiding behind anger and tough words. She felt renewed, refreshed. She'd been gone from home far too long. "I wish he were here too...you don't know what I'd do to bring him back. But it wouldn't last...trouble follows him like..." Gohan paused, unsure of how to finish the analogy.  
  
"Like he follows the scent of Grandma ChiChi's cooking," Pan giggled into her father's chest, looking up at him with bright and innocent eyes.  
  
Gohan laughed and looked down at his daughter, seeing the little girl he had raised, eyes bright and large, hanging onto his every word, living only to make her father happy...dreaming to someday match his strength.  
  
"Panny, what happened to you?" he asked quietly, and she grinned, pulling back and dropping into a combat crouch. Jokingly, Gohan mirrored her position.  
  
"~HEY!~"  
  
The two whirled their heads around to see an older, yet still strikingly beautiful woman, with healthy black hair, standing in the doorway, arms crossed menacingly over her chest, glaring at them.  
  
"How many times do you to have to be told- ~no fighting in the house!!!~"  
  
They flinched at her voice, drawing back and cowering, but still loving her just the same.  
  
"Yes Mom."  
  
"Good. Now, Videl has your breakfasts waiting for you. I suppose you two will be finishing that sparring session either ~outside~ or ~in~ the ~gravity room~ after you eat?"  
  
Gohan and Pan flashed ChiChi the famous Son smile that they had inherited from Goku, and flew past her toward the kitchen, where the delicious and enticing smells of bacon, sausages, pancakes, eggs, and other breakfast foods beckoned they come.  
  
ChiChi laughed and shook her head.  
  
"Saiyans."  
  
*************************  
A/N: I bet ya didn't know that was ChiChi-I bet you thought it was Videl! Ha! Fooled you!....You already knew? Damn.....oh well! Hope you enjoyed! Hey, did you notice that this one was longer? Yep, it is. But the next will probably be ~really~ short. Oh, btw, yeah, this is the third of my 3-sie.  
  
I'm out of my depression, so this will probably pick up and be a little less sad (I know this sounds really mean and morbid, but people told me this made them cry...and I got a major ego boost off'a that!), there will be tear-jerkers in this, but I'll keep an eye out for 'em, and warn you to get a kleenex box. Anywayz, yeah. Please review.  
  
Thankz!  
  
-Panabelle ;P  



	6. Chapter 5: Blue Diamonds, Black Sapphire...

Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with DBZ. Not even my Chibi Trunks action figure! He found out that I lied about jr. prom, how I don't have one and all, and now he's locked himself in my refrigerator and is threatening to eat his way out if I don't let him go to my school and make them give a jr. prom.  
  
A/N: I got it out! Wow...2 chaps in one day. I guess I really ~don't~ have a life. ;P Oh, yeah, and I wrote this chapter as the final testament that I am ~NOT~ a Gohan basher. All right, that's it. I'm done. Read on and review.  
  
BTW: If you see ~'s, you need to but the words between them in emphasis. *'s mean that some one is thinking, or that they are remembering someone else's words. *~*'s mark the beginning and end of flashback. This chapter starts out with one.  
  
*******************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 5  
  
  
*~*  
Her eyes shone like blue diamonds, or like black sapphires. It was late, it was time he get her to bed, and she knew it.  
  
"Please, Daddy? One more time? Please? Please Daddy?"  
  
He smiled, wishing he could comply to her wish, wishing he could take her out one more time, but his wife would have his ass in a sling, saiyan or no saiyan.  
  
"I can't Panny, it's bedtime."  
  
"Daddy!" She smacked him in the chest with her little fist. He arched his back to take the blow, laughing quietly. For a 3 year old, she could hit pretty hard. "Daddy!" she cried again, pouting, sticking out her lower lip and letting it quiver. "Daddy, please?"  
  
He shook his head and dropped to the ground, hoisting the little girl up into his arms, holding her in the crook of his elbow, letting her lean against his chest. She set her little mop-top of a head on his shoulder and looked up at him with adoring eyes. "Daddy, please?"  
  
Sighing, he set her back on the ground.  
  
"You know Mommy's going to have my head for this, don't you?" he asked her quietly, looking down at her as she hugged his legs, her big and innocent eyes wide with wonder.  
  
Giggling and grinning, she jumped back from him and dropped into an awkward yet seemingly natural combat crouch. She nearly lost her balance, but caught herself, sticking her tongue out in careful concentration, then pulled it back in and grinned up at him.  
  
Gohan shook his head. He knew the adoration for him in her eyes would fade soon, once she started to grow older and slip outside of Daddy's protective arms. He dreaded the day, but didn't fear it.  
  
His little girl would be able to take care of herself, no matter the circumstances. He knew that in a few years, once she entered high school, boys would flock after her, and he be tempted to kill every last one of them. And more then likely would have to restrain herself when she brought home that one guy who made her eyes shine.  
  
But for right now, her eyes shone, for him and him alone, like blue diamonds, black sapphires.  
*~*  
  
Her eyes looked up into his, wide and innocent, so like they had been that night out in the woods, loving him and him alone, her love as pure as it could be.  
  
She'd been his little Panny.  
  
And he could swear to Dende that she was that same little Panny from 18 years ago, just bigger and with longer hair.  
  
*He hurt her.* The thought rang in his ears, demanding he seek vengeance on that purple haired bastard that had dared to hurt his little girl. But she wouldn't let him. *What'd he do to you, Panny?*  
  
"Panny, what happened to you?" he whispered quietly, in total wonder of what his daughter had become, of what she still could be.  
  
She pushed away from him, dropping into a combat crouch, so much like yesteryear, only so much more natural, so much more eloquent and practiced, seemingly effortless. Grinning, he mirrored her, knowing Videl would have his head for messing around with her in the house, but not caring.  
  
For right now, she was his little Panny again, and he was her Daddy and protector.  
  
Her adoration for him made her eyes shine like blue diamonds, black sapphires.  
  
*****************  
A/N: So whaddaya think? Review and let me know, k? I'm gonna go tempt my Chibi Trunks action figure out of the refrigerator now, so I'll write more later.  
  
-Panabelle ;P  
www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers  



	7. Chapter 6: Like Father, Like Son

Disclaimer: Panabelle owns nothing! I, Chibi Trunks!, own all!! Ha ha ha ha ha! Now bow before me, I am the heir to the Saiyan Throne and --*smack* Ignore that. I own nothing, and he's a piece of plastic.  
  
A/N: You know, no one has been reviewing, and it is really depressing me. I don't even care if you read the damned things, just review! Ok? (Actually, I would prefer that you would read it, but at this rate, I'll accept anything!) So please, REVIEW! Thank you. Enjoy.  
  
BTW: I would think you know the routine by now. ;P  
  
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Petrified Tears  
chapter 6  
  
  
"Where the hell have you been?"  
  
He ignored his mother, walking past her, Pan's bandana clutched tightly in his fist.  
  
"Trunks, where the hell have you been? It's noon! I called Gohan, and it seems you dropped Pan off around 4 this morning, so where the hell have you been?"  
  
Trunks' eyes were sunken, as if he'd been crying, or hadn't slept in a long while. Or like he'd been drinking.  
  
"Trunks? ~Trunks!~"  
  
He winced, staggered, brought a hand up to his head.  
  
Bulma stood up from her perch on the couch and crossed to him, grabbing the front of his shirt in her fist, pulling his face next to hers. He didn't smell of alcohol, and he didn't look as if he'd been crying, his eyes ~were~ puffy and sunken, but his face wasn't streaked in tear-tracks; he was pale, but not flushed.  
  
"Trunks?" It dawned on her and she quickly thwaped the back of his head. "Trunks! Coming home 8 hours late looking like the dead will ~not~ get you out of that presentation this evening! I don't care if there's some new enemy threatening to destroy the Earth! You ~will~ unveil it tonight!"  
  
He groaned.  
  
He'd completely forgotten about that damn conference with the rest of the world tonight.  
  
Usually these types of banquets were a breeze and he didn't mind them much, but after all that had happened with Pan last night, and this morning, he guessed, he wasn't up to it.  
  
He still couldn't feel his heart...it was still lying dead or dormant-probably dead-in his chest, shrinking and shriveling up into a black and withered lump of coal, sending gut wrenching spasms of pain through his soul.  
  
He was dying...he had to be.  
  
"Mother...please, can we postpone-"  
  
"~NO!!!!!~"  
  
With a defeated sigh, he trudged upstairs.  
  
"We're picking up the Sons at 3, so get ready!"  
  
Trunks froze, halfway up the stairs, in midstep. He felt weak enough to fall over.  
  
*DAMMIT!*  
  
He'd completely forgotten about that...Bulma had suggested that it become one of those old party events that she'd always thrown, so on the way to Capsule Corps Offices, they were picking up Gohan, ChiChi, Videl, and Pan, leaving Goten to find his own ride. After he had revealed CC's newest invention to the world, they were back to Capsule Corp HQ, as Goten had taken to calling it, to a patented "Bulma Briefs Party".  
  
Damn.  
  
"Trunks!" Bulma screeched from downstairs, shattering him. He stumbled forward before he caught himself. "Trunks, get going! Come on!"  
  
Clenching his fists, he whirled.  
  
"Dammit, Mother! I don't need this right now! Reveal the new fucking capsules yourself, if they're so damned important to you! Right now, petty pieces of shit like those don't require my attention!"  
  
Bulma staggered back, completely taken by the father-son resemblance that Trunks had shown. She'd always known her son had had it in him, but not to this extent, and she'd never thought it would come out over something as trivial as super-compact capsules. But there is was, Trunks with Vegeta written all over him-the growling sneer, the dark and haunted eyes, the impassive and emotionless face. His stance was rigid, as if he was using every bit of will power to keep from blasting her. Not to mention his tone of voice...his attitude towards something so insignificant, and yet so important.  
  
"Trunks..."  
  
Shaking, Trunks punched the wall. Didn't even bother to turn, just drew his hand across his chest, and slammed it into the wall. The house shuddered, and suddenly, Bulma had a new doorway into the middle of the living room.  
  
"Listen, Mister," she started, knowing how to handle him-just the same as his father. Yell back and make him listen, get him away from Bra and all others present, then ask him what was wrong. "I don't need-"  
  
Trunks turned his back on her, crossing his arms across his chest and blurring up the stairs, leaving a baffled and bewildered Bulma behind.  
  
********************  
A/N: You know, I am getting really upset at this whole nobody reviewing thing. How hard is it? You type in something below, and push the button! So please, review? That's all I'm asking. If you can't figure out how to do it, you're a bonehead. If you ~do~ know how to do it, but don't feel like it, I'm gonna think you don't, which ~still~ makes you a bonehead. So please, prove you're not a bonehead. Thank you!  
  
-Panabelle ;P  



	8. Chapter 7: Broken Chopsticks

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ. You should know that by now. But ya know what? my Chibi Trunks action figure forgave me! Yay! (I told him he could be my date to Sadie Hawkin's...but he doesn't need to know that he has to wait until next year. ;P)  
  
A/N: Yay! Panabelle updated! And what's more, there aren't as many boneheads as I thought there were! Yay! But there are still a lot of boneheads out there. Please review! That's all I ask you do! (You kinda came to read this of your own accord.) So please, review!  
  
PS. I have nothing against Vegeta.  
  
BTW: Do I really have to go through this again?  
  
***************************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 7  
  
  
"Pan? Sweetheart, what happened to you hands?"  
  
Pan looked up, all too aware of her mother's worried and speculative gaze. Pan quickly stuck her hands under the hot water of the kitchen sink and scrubbed the blood off of her hands and fingers, pushing up the sleeves of her stolen shirt and scrubbing her arms.  
  
"Panny!"  
  
"It's nothing Mom," Pan said hurriedly, knowing that if she didn't come up with some lie-and quick-that her parents would buy, she'd be explaining the previous night's events, and her father would be out for blood. She didn't want that, this was her fight.  
  
"Nothing!? Honey, your hands are-"  
  
Pan quickly dried her hands and slid in to her chair at the table. "Mom, I just-well, Trunks and I got to talking about Grandpa last night, and I guess I'm still to proud to cry."  
  
"Pan," Videl scolded. "You have known Trunks your whole life, I would think you wouldn't be ashamed of crying in front of him."  
  
"Especially over something that struck him just as devastating blow," ChiChi continued, discretely blinking away the mist that had settled over her eyes. "Goku hurt all of us, even that stuck up bastard Vegeta, I wouldn't doubt to think that he shed a few tears over it himself."  
  
"Mom?" Gohan cried, taken aback by his mother's words. "What's gotten you so temperamental this morning?"  
  
ChiChi turned to snap a response, but Videl quickly intervened and dropped a heaping plate of food in front of her husband, who nervously and slowly picked up his chopsticks.  
  
"Something saiyans don't go through. Now shut up and eat, Bulma's picking us up in a couple hours, and I have to help Pan get ready."  
  
Pan choked on her pancake. Sputtering and choking over the evil pancake, she finally gagged it down and swallowed.  
  
"~What!?~" she cried, staring at her mother, trying not to notice the fact that she had broken one of her chopsticks and that her hands were bleeding again. She'd completely forgotten about that night's dinner party-Bulma had mentioned it two weeks ago, as a belated welcome home, and also as a celebration for CC's new and improved, patented, super-compact capsules.  
  
Videl grinned, her smile almost envious of the dumb and goofy, yet ever warm-hearted and lovable Son smile that Goten, Gohan, and Pan had all inherited from Goku. Immediately, Pan translated the intention and the reason for the smile.  
  
"Well, Pan, we figure that you might as well get a new dress and a makeover, especially since you and Tr-"  
  
"~NO!~ Wait, Mom!" Pan cried, holding out her bleeding hands to stop her mother, her cheeks erupting into a crimson fire. "~MOM!~"  
  
Videl shut up, but took the opportunity to snatch Pan's hands and inspect them, nearly dragging her across the table in the process.  
  
"Mom, Trunks and I are just friends, ok? It's nothing like-like-" her mind fumbled for the word. Finally, cursing herself, she relied back on Trunks "speech" from the night before. "Like- ~that!~"  
  
Videl face faulted, knowing that her daughter was lying through her pretty white teeth.  
  
"Now, Honey, after all-"  
  
"Remember why I wanted to go to college in Cali?"  
  
Videl promptly closed her mouth. Across the table, Gohan glowered.  
  
"Daddy, ~breathe~... Breathe in, nice and deep, good...let it out- ~slowly!~ Good, Daddy...again..."  
  
While Pan coached her father back down to a marginally safe temper-level, Videl got a good look at her daughter.  
  
She was taller then she'd been four years ago, her hair was much longer-more like ChiChi's when she let it down. Her once blue eyes had grown black over the years as she had lost her innocence, but still held an elusive and mysterious blue sheen to them. Her skin was still pale, the perfect contrast to her hair and eyes, as Videl had known it would be. She was so much like her father-so innocent, so loving and understanding, usually-it was a wonder that Pan had shown any feminism at all.  
  
California had obviously been good to her.  
  
But to think that Pan all of a sudden had no intention to mate with Trunks? That was going too far. Ever since Pan had turned 8, Videl had known, with that clever and never-entirely-wrong mother's intuition that she had learned to use without thinking, that her daughter was deeply infatuated with the heir to Vegeta's "throne". And now, all of a sudden, after that big stink that Pan had thrown yesterday about where her sneakers were, her blouse, the iron, all of these things, Pan suddenly had no personal interest in the lavender-locked semi-saiyan?  
  
If that was true, Videl's father ~did~ defeat Cell.  
  
"Pan-"  
  
"Yes Mom?" Pan asked, yanking her hands back and picking up her demolished chopsticks, holding them as if to use them, but playing with the end of the broken and useless one.  
  
"Pan, how ~was~ last night, anyways?"  
  
Pan shrugged slim and strong shoulders. "It was ok. We went to dinner-oh, yeah, by the way, I'm not allowed at Juno's any longer, we kinda have a lifetime banning 'cause we ignored our previous salad-bar-banning, and ate the whole salad bar. So I'm not allowed to go there any more."  
  
Videl laughed and nodded, Gohan snickered, remembering his ~own~ banning from Juno's...after that, he and ChiChi had remembered to never take Goku dining in public again.  
  
"What'd you guys do at dinner?"  
  
"Ate." Videl face faulted again, and Pan elaborated. "He caught me up on what I missed while I was gone...how he and Marron gave it one last try, and then said to Hell with it, and went back to being friends. Oh, and how come no one ever told me that Bulma finally talked Vegeta into taking anger management classes? I would have flown home for that!" She gave up on her broken chopstick, tossed it back onto her napkin, and started stabbing her food with her one surviving utensil. "I told him about Holly and her crazy stop-go animations, and about that one guy who walked me too and from my dorm every morning so that 'I wouldn't get hurt on my way to school', even ~after~ he saw me get hit by a drunk driver, and get up with only a bruise and a temper. We just caught up, that's all."  
  
Gohan laughed, though a bit disturbed about the car part. He dimly remembered her saying something about it, so therefore couldn't say anything on the subject, but that didn't mean he was happy about it.  
  
"Well?" ChiChi urged. "What about after dinner?"  
  
Pan swallowed a mouthful of food and continued. "Well...I wanted to spar, I haven't had a decent sparring partner since I left, and training by myself is boring-"  
  
"See, if you had come home every once in a while, that could have been reme-"  
  
Videl kicked her husband under the table, and motioned for her daughter to continue.  
  
"-but he didn't want to, something about not wanting to have to pay to rebuild the country. Anyways, after that, we agreed to go to the beach. We just walked for a little while, talking a little more about old times I guess, then after a while we sat down."  
  
She shrugged, her voice losing its enthusiasm, her eyes losing their twinkle, and as her gaze drifted to the corner of the kitchen farthest from Gohan, she set down her chopstick, seemingly having lost her appetite.  
  
"That was when Grandpa came up. We were just looking up at the stars...and there was one star...I couldn't help but bring Grandpa up. After that, we were..." she struggled here, the memory of the kiss too strong, she didn't want her family to know... "We just sat...both of us, quiet...then we came home. I guess I was so preoccupied with thoughts of Grandpa, and of all the times that happened up in space, that I...I was trying not to let it get to me...and I guess I dug my nails in too deep."  
  
ChiChi and Videl nodded, understanding about digging your nails in too deep...it was hard not to instantly fall in love with Goku...he was everything a man should be, even if he was a little slow in the head sometimes.  
  
Gohan reached over and rubbed Pan's shoulders, hearing the unspoken "That's all I feel like telling you" that his wife and mother missed. "It'll be alright Panny. Now, come on, eat, and maybe we can get in some sparring time before your mother and grandmother try and wrestle you into a dress."  
  
"Daddy! You're not on my side here!" she cried, looking at him with wide and beseeching eyes.  
  
He shook his head. "I don't have a choice."  
  
"~WHY!?!~"  
  
Laughing, Gohan nearly choked on his chopstick, but instead merely snapped it in half. Curiously setting aside the broken one and stabbing his food with the other as his daughter had done, he answered her. "You willingly wore a skirt yesterday of your own accord. You try and tell them you hate anything but jeans."  
  
Pan had to laugh as well. Hungry again, she beat Gohan to the last pancake, spearing it and quickly retreating to her own plate, where she rolled it and took a bite. "I guess I did bring this on myself."  
  
***************************  
A/N: This is it for this chap. But not the story! Unlike ~SOME~ ppl who I could mention *cough cough* Evil Child *cough cough* but won't, I'm not cutting my stories into pieces. Anymore. I'll try and get the next chap out soon, don't worry 'bout me leaving yooz guyz hangin' too long-I ~do~ want to keep my audience, so I'll keep ya posted! (Ha ha, get the pun? Ha...ha...aw...alright, no more puns from me.)  
  
Ya know what, kudos go out to Sapphire for catching my bit with my Chibi Trunks action figure. She's the only one of 30 reviewers plus a lot of boneheads who actually asked about that. And yes, he and I patched things up. Thank you very much for asking.  
  
Oh, yeah, one last note: REVIEW OR YOU'RE A BONEHEAD! Please.  
  
-Panabelle ;P  



	9. Chapter 8: Still Breathing, Still Dead

Disclaimer: Once again, it is I, the almight heir to the prince of saiyans, Chibi Trunks! Now, don't think that I am here to honor you with my presence, I am merely here because I want all of you to know that Panabelle does ~not~ own DBZ. ~I~ do...but I can't prove that with paperwork.  
  
A/N: Doesn't Chibi Trunks make you laugh? He makes ~me~ laugh. Alright, wow, 2 chaps in one night...warning, this one is ~extra~ long. So, yeah. Just warning you. Alright, I request you read and review. C'mon, prove your not a bonehead! I know you probably know how to type and push the button, otherwise you never would have found your way to ff.net, nor to my fic. So c'mon, review! Please.  
  
Enjoy!  
  
BTW: If you ~really~ can't remember and need me to go through this again, head back to another chapter 'cause I'm lazy and don't want to type it again.  
  
********************************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 8  
  
  
Trunks flopped back onto his bed, staring angrily up at the ceiling.  
  
He didn't know where that outburst had come from, but he felt a little better.  
  
Even knowing that his mother would make work a living hell until he apologized and explained, and that his father would beat him senseless for back-talking his mother as he had, he felt better.  
  
At least he still had ~some~ fight left in him after what had happened the night before.  
  
Gohan more then likely ~would~ kill him for what he had done to Pan, but for right now, Trunks just had himself.  
  
No enemies such as angry fathers or mothers to worry about.  
  
No banquets.  
  
No nagging mother to keep him trapped behind a desk.  
  
No women running around the office trying to please him so that he might notice them in that ~extra~ special way.  
  
And best of all, no Pan.  
  
He closed his eyes, feeling the tears fresh in his eyes.  
  
*~*  
He honestly hadn't meant to, but she'd just been lying there, staring up at the stars...he'd never seen her so beautiful-let alone anyone else-in all his life, he wasn't aware of what he was doing until it was too late to stop himself.  
  
"Panny? Have you ever felt completely lost, like half of you was taken away and held for ransom?"  
  
One corner of her mouth had curled up into a half smile. "Yeah, I've felt like that for a while." She'd turned her head to look hat him, her eyes probing his tan face, wondering what had gotten into him to turn his mood so somber. "What about you? You ever get that feeling?"  
  
"It's been there for the last four years, but it's gone now," he'd mumbled quietly, his words registering in his brain the second the last had left his mouth.  
  
Pan had been quiet for a few minutes, as Trunks had lain there, and then, stifling a giggle, she'd propped herself up on her elbows and smiled down at him. "That's odd...didn't I leave four years ago?"  
  
"Yes," he'd replied automatically, too busy with giving himself a mental thrashing to notice she was deepening the pit.  
  
"And didn't I just get back?"  
  
Realization dawned on him, and a crimson blush spread across his face and down his neck, his ears burned as if the devil were pulling them from his head.   
  
Shoving his heart back into his chest, where it beat loudly enough to wake the dead, he found his calm and casually answered her question with a question of his own. "Point being?"  
  
She'd leaned down, her nose pressed against his, one of her favorite games back when he'd still baby-sat her. But this was no ordinary staring contest. "You know what I think, Trunks?" she'd whispered, her eyelashes batting gently against his own, the palms of her hands digging painfully into his chest.  
  
His heart flip-flopped into his chest, climbing into his throat, pounding loud enough for her to hear. Sweet Dende, if she couldn't hear it, she was deaf. She wouldn't need saiyan hearing to hear it.  
  
"What?" he'd croaked, his voice husky as he forced his heart back into his chest.  
  
"I think you like me, Trunks."  
  
She'd said it so simply, so matter-of-fact, so...hopefully, that it was almost as if she was begging him to tell her "Yes, I do." And his heart happily settled back into his chest, but it still pounded as loud as it could, the pounds echoing in his chest. Smirking the smirk that he'd inherited from his father, he'd pushed himself up onto his elbows, then the palms of his hands, keeping his eyes locked on hers, his forehead and nose pressed against her own. Her eyes grew wide, and blinked furiously, a pink tint creeping across her face.  
  
She'd reacted exactly as he'd hoped she would; his smirk remained as he looked through his lavender bangs into her midnight blue eyes as they shone brightly with their own stars, their own inner light.   
  
"And you know what I think, Miss Son?"  
  
She'd swallowed tightly, her voice thick.  
  
"What?" she'd croaked out, her beautiful voice breathy and light.  
  
"I think you want me to."  
  
Her cheeks had flamed into a furious blush that raced down her neck and over her ears, that seemed to warm his own face. She'd dropped her eyes, inadvertently looking has his chest, her face flaming even more. Trunks's smirk had grown warmer, but hadn't left his lips. With his fingers, he'd stroked the underside of her chin. She'd brought her eyes back up to meet his.  
  
As his hand slid along the side of her neck and settled in the warm spot beneath her hair and at the base of her skull, the world had dropped completely from sight as they both closed their eyes and let their lips meet...  
*~*  
  
His eyes opened, but they were drier now, and didn't ache so much.  
  
Sure, there was still that numb and painful hurtlessness that made them itch way in the back of his skull where he couldn't reach if he wanted to, but they didn't itch on the outside, didn't seem as if they were falling out of his skull, didn't want to hide behind his eyelids from the rest of the world any longer.  
  
Yawning and pushing himself into a sitting position, he rubbed his forehead, picking himself off of the rumpled bedsheets and staggered to the bathroom.  
  
He looked a mess. His hair was greasy and disheveled...he'd never let it get like this before. His eyes were sunken, but not as far as they had been when he'd first gotten home. His face was pale, long. Wrinkles pinched at his eyes, deep lines ran from his nose to the corners of his mouth.  
  
*Have I always looked like this?*  
  
The answer was yes, he had. He'd just been too vain, too conceited, too caught up in himself to notice. He'd always thought himself beautiful, had assumed that since Gohan still looked like he had in high school, ~he~ would look like he had in high school until he was in his fifties.  
  
Fifties. Those years seemed so close all of a sudden.  
  
Sighing, Trunks closed the door and turned on the shower, stripping himself of his shirt and his pants, watching the sand fall from his body. He'd completely forgotten that he'd been at the beach...~had~ he gone to the beach? He must have, for his skin was rubbed raw in places, and there was sand all over the bathroom floor...  
  
Sighing, he stepped into the shower, closing the door behind him.  
  
He didn't know what was wrong...almost couldn't remember.  
  
Almost.  
  
He couldn't forget though...his heart no longer beating was enough to remind him that he had fallen from grace...from Pan...forever...  
  
He braced his hands against the cool ceramic tile, leaned forward and placed his forehead against it. The scalding hot water felt good on the back of his neck, the pain of it reminded him that he was still alive.  
  
*Funny...whenever I'm down, even the smallest and most normally insignificant everyday things hurt like a sonofabitch.*  
  
There was a pounding at the door, and soon Bulma's voice roared through the door and over the thunder of the water.  
  
"~You listen to me young man, I don't care WHAT you do or WHAT happened last night, you WILL be going tonight, and you WILL be ready to pick up the Sons in half an hour, am I underSTOOD?!~" she screamed. It sounded as if she had been crying, but she had no reason to.  
  
*Dammit Mother! I don't need this right now!*  
  
Or maybe she did.  
  
He'd had no right to yell at her like that...maybe he'd apologize when he was ready...if he decided to go.  
  
But then...of course he'd have to go...he had to present the new capsules...with Pan in the audience...  
  
"~ARGH!~" he cried, collapsing against the wall, sobbing again. The water on his back was boiling, he felt like the very skin on his back was melting away. He clenched his hands into fists, the skin on his knuckles growing white and his back hunching as he tried to keep the pain inside, keep it inside where he couldn't see it, couldn't feel it, and where he could forget about it.  
  
*Pan...I'm sorry!*  
  
  
~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~  
  
  
He stepped out of the shower and looked at himself in the mirror.  
  
He was growing weaker, his body wasn't as toned as it had once been. He no longer had a perfectly chiseled 6-pack, something he'd once been so proud of.  
  
His hair was girly...he'd always denied it before, but it was...it ~did~ make him look gay. He'd never dye it, not even now...it was part of him...besides, Vegeta would kill him if he even thought about it....  
  
Trunks shook his head and entered his room after cleaning up the bathroom. Dejectedly, he pulled out black slacks and a black dress shirt. He didn't bother with a jacket, didn't bother with a tie, didn't see any reason too...the girl-no, woman-he wanted wouldn't take him.  
  
He quickly ran a comb through his hair, not caring about that strands that refused to lay where and how he wanted them to. Pulling on his boots, he wandered downstairs.  
  
Bulma sat at the kitchen table, her hands angrily gripping a coffee cup. She looked perfect, as she always did, but she looked pissed.  
  
Vegeta lounging against the refrigerator glaring at him maliciously helped to cement the suspicions of his mother's anger  
  
*Normally I'd be thinking "Shit, Mom's pissed, time to grovel"...but I'm not now...do I really not care anymore?*  
  
Upon hearing him enter, his mother didn't even turn. Instead, she stopped spinning her coffee cup and closed her eyes.  
  
"Do you have anything to say for yourself, Trunks?" she asked him quietly, too quietly.  
  
He shrugged, walking to the sink and running the tap for a glass of water. He turned around and looked at her.  
  
"I'm sorry for coming home late, I guess. And I'm sorry I blew up earlier. But I'm not sorry for what I said. I don't want to reveal the new capsules, I have no intention to do so. Capsule Corp isn't my thing. It's your pet, not mine. You invented the capsules, you display them. You know I hate doing it, and what's more, you know that I hate running the company. I know you want to keep it in the family, and I understand and respect that. But you have 2 kids...and Bra takes more after you then I do. You could have raised her to run the company after you retired." He set the glass back on the counter, leaned back against it and crossed his arms. A smirk spread across his face.  
  
"And the fact of the matter is, you have even retired yet. Which means that there's really no reason for me to be running the company if you're still working. So why don't you do your share? Why don't you start ~earning~ that salary that lets you keep inventing and building and that allows us to live in this fairy tale palace that half the world probably couldn't afford. Why don't you do ~that~, Mother dear? Or, even better, why don't you ~invent~ your own Dende damned dragonballs, and ~wish~ for a son that would happily run the company like the little lap dog that you want me to be, because you know ~what~ Mother dear? I'm done. I've had enough. I no longer want anything to do with that damned building. I'm not built for it. You know that, Dad's been telling you for years, and I've just never had the heart to tell you."  
  
Bulma, who had been sitting there staring at him all this time, finally exploded. She flew up from her chair, knocking it back several feet, face red with anger, fists clenched, her whole body shaking.  
  
Against the refrigerator, Vegeta smirked indifferently.  
  
"~Then HOW in Dende's name can you tell me NOW!?~" she demanded as Trunks finished the glass of water and set it in the sink.  
  
Calmly and rationally, he walked forward, leaving the room.  
  
"~Damn you, don't you walk out on me! Answer me! HOW can you say that when you couldn't before?!~"  
  
He paused. He was right next to her, all he had to do was look over his shoulder and they were face to face.  
  
"Because, Mother dear, I don't have any heart at all anymore." He smirked deeper, once again the spitting image of his father. Bulma was tempted to shrink back, but wasn't about to back down. He knew she wanted to, and so he leaned a little closer, and, just for emphasis, added, "It ~died~."  
  
And with that, he left the room.  
  
**********************************************  
A/N: Told you it was long. So whadday think? Ha...I'm evil, ain't I?  
  
Don't bother answering that, I already know I am...ain't I Evil Child?  
  
Anywayz, ~please~ review. I'm beginning to get irked by yooz peoples not reviewing. I know I'm kinda harsh and pushy when asking you, but I'm writing this story based on your responses. So please, please, please, please, ~please!~ review. Otherwise, this story might have to take a temporary hiatus. So please? Review? Make Panabelle happy again? Please?  
  
-Panabelle ;P  



	10. Chapter 9: Little Boy Gone Bad

Disclaimer: I think I've made it pretty obvious that I don't own DBZ.  
  
A/N: HI! Yeah, I know, I'm contradicting myself.... "No more ficcy until you review!!!!" And what do I do? I post. Ugh, I disgust me. Anywayz, this is where things get crucial, I don't know what to do from here on out, so I will need your reviews to guide me. Just keep that in mind, and review. Please? I'll take back the bonehead comment if I get 10 reviews for this chapter before I post the next...please? Review?  
  
BTW: If you ~must~ know...you already should.  
  
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Petrified Tears  
chapter 9  
  
  
Bulma stood there, gasping, her eyes wide and stricken. Her hands clenched the air.  
  
~NO~ one had ever spoken to her like that, only Vegeta, but there had always been that note underneath it all, that note beneath the harsh words and the angry façade that just said "I need you, need me back," and that only she could hear.  
  
But her son...Trunks just didn't have that. There was only anger. Only anger that had never been there before. He was 34 years old, and never, in all those years, had she heard him snap at her like that. Never, in all those years, had he been so angry, so...so much like his father.  
  
She blinked back the shock, and turned to her husband, her mate.  
  
Normally he'd be tracking the boy down for yelling at her like that...he never had, but Trunks had received terrible beatings just for rolling his eyes. And yet, now, the one time he ~really~ needed ~some~thing knocked into him, Vegeta stood there, arms crossed over his chest, smirking.  
  
"Vegeta," she choked out, shaking still, but now from fear, and not anger.  
  
Fear at what her little boy had become.  
  
Vegeta glanced to the doorway, then nodded to her, dropping his arms to his sides.  
  
Biting her lip, Bulma crossed to him, burrowing her nose into his chest, taking deep soothing breaths, letting his scent wash over her and relax her.  
  
"What's happening to him, Vegeta? What could have changed him so much in so little time?"  
  
Vegeta didn't answer, merely lifted a hand and set it on her back. She lifted her face, looked into his dark and endless eyes. He looked down at her, then looked back up as Bra entered the room.  
  
"Vegeta?" Bulma whimpered, feeling tears coming, but not wanting to have to redo her mascara, they were already late picking up the Sons, and her family's problems didn't need to be advertized with her tardiness.  
  
"Stop whining woman," Vegeta snapped. "Or we'll have to wait another 5 hours while you reapply that ridiculous and unnecessary makeup you wear."  
  
"Mom? Daddy?" Bra asked quietly, dropping her purse onto the table, picking up the chair and looking at her parents. "What's going on?  
  
Bulma turned and sighed, looking out the door that her eldest child, her son, had just passed through.  
  
"I don't know, Bra, but I wish I knew..."  
  
"Mom?"  
  
Bulma turned and placed Trunks' glass in the sink, then left to gather her purse.  
  
"Ask your brother, because he won't tell me."  
  
  
~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~  
  
  
Out in the hall, Trunks knees went weak, and he silently slumped back against the wall, bringing a hand up to his forehead.  
  
*What's happening to me?*  
  
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A/N: ~Goood~ question Trunks, what ~is~ happening to you? Well ppls, what's happening to him? Review, and maybe you'll find out.  
  
-Panabelle ;P   



	11. Chapter 10: Butt Out

Disclaimer: Uh....I own nothing?  
  
A/N: Heh heh heh heh....oops....~*smack!*~ Looks like I uploaded the wrong file...oops.  
  
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Petrified Tears  
chapter 10  
  
"~Mom!~ Where's the curling iron?!"  
  
~*CRASH*~  
  
The occupants of the limo winced as the car pulled up in front of the Son residence. Vegeta looked uncomfortable in his tux, he sat more stiffly then usual in the corner farthest from the door. Next to him sat Bulma, her legs crossed at the knee, sitting formally in a long black evening gown.  
  
For a woman in her late fifties, she looked pretty damn good.  
  
Back, across from them, near the door, sat Trunks, stoically. His face a carbon copy of his father's, his eyes dark and cruel...they seemed blacker then before. He had crossed his arms before his chest, his legs crossed at the knees. Bulma had tried talking to him on the ride over, but he had only smirked disapprovingly and shook his head at whatever she said, refusing to answer.  
  
Up in the driving cab sat Bra, flirting with the limo driver.  
  
"Mom!" came Pan's voice from inside the Son house.  
  
"Trunks," Bulma said quietly, crossing her arms, her eyes closed. "Go up and see if they're ready to go."  
  
"Woof woof."  
  
Bulma's eyes flew open.  
  
"~Trunks!~"  
  
The door flew open and Bra reached in, pulling her brother out of the car.  
  
"Come on Brother, let's go get your girlfriend."  
  
"~WHAT?!~"  
  
Outside the limo, Trunks yanked his arm back and glared at Bra.  
  
"What the hell do you mean my-"  
  
"It was one way to get you out of the car, wasn't it?"  
  
"Bitch."  
  
Bra grabbed his arm again and dragged him to the front door.  
  
"I'm not the one who rejected you," she replied matter-of-factly, ringing the bell.  
  
"Bra, she didn't reject-"  
  
Videl yanked the door open, her face tired yet happy.  
  
"Bra, Trunks." She laughed. "Come on in; ChiChi and I are trying to fight Pan into an evening gown and make up, so we may be longer then anticipated." Videl's words were punctuated by a crash from upstairs.  
  
"~Get away from me with that! AH! No, get that away-NO! Grandma! Don't-AH!~"  
  
Bra laughed and pushed into the house. "Never fear, I am here to help. And Trunks is here to hold her down."  
  
Trunks glared at her and turned. "I'll get Mother and Father," he called soullessly over his shoulder.  
  
"What's with him?"  
  
"Couldn't tell you, he's been like this all morning. Now, I'll go help ChiChi with Pan."  
  
"Just follow the screaming," Videl told her, stepping back to admit Bulma, Trunks, and Vegeta.  
  
Bra bonded up the stairs in her heals, her long blue hair swinging behind her. Bulma walked to the mantle in the living room, picking up pictures and studying them. Vegeta followed her, leaning against the wall next to the picture window, watching his wife, and keeping an eye on his son.  
  
Trunks merely stood uneasily in the doorway.  
  
He seemed better now, not so angry, merely scared and nervous, but he still wasn't himself.  
  
Videl closed the door and walked into the living room and stood next to Bulma, picking up a photograph from the end.  
  
"She always has been a Daddy's girl," Bulma observed casually, but Videl heard a note of hurt in the older woman's voice, and couldn't help but peak back at Trunks.  
  
She smiled, touching the grinning faces of her husband and 3 year old daughter, back when Gohan had just starting teaching Pan to fight.  
  
"Yes, she has. Just like someone I could mention has always been a Momma's boy."  
  
Next to her, Bulma "hmmphed", behind her, Trunks laughed quietly and sardonically. But neither mother nor son did anymore then that, so Videl decided to take the safe route and change the subject.  
  
"You know, Trunks, Pan told us she had a very good time last night."  
  
~That~ got Trunks' attention. He seemed to come alive, and walked curiously into the living room, his eyes interested and eager, alive for the first time since she'd opened the door.  
  
"Really? She said that?"  
  
"In so many words."  
  
"H-how? I mean, how so?"  
  
Videl shrugged, placing the photograph back on the mantle. Upstairs, great *thumps* and *thwacks* could be heard.  
  
"Well, we talked at breakfast this morning, and she told us that you went out to dinner together and had a marvelous time, although neither of you are allowed back at Juno's," she paused, noticing a sad and quiet snort of laughter from Trunks. "She said you went to the beach and talked about Goku, and about what both of you had missed. When we asked her why she was past curfew, she merely said 'we lost track of time, I guess.' She was a little subdued, but she always is, after thinking about her grandfather."  
  
Trunks nodded.  
  
"~Bra! I'm serious, you are NOT getting me into that thing-YES I will wear an OCCASIONAL dress every once and a while, but you will NEVER get me into THAT-THAT-THING!!!!!~" Pan's voice from upstairs was almost worth a good laugh. Almost...downstairs the atmosphere was too strained for laughter of the good-natured sort.  
  
"Pan," Bra could be heard clearly, her voice quiet and commanding. "Get over here and put on the dress."  
  
"~NO!!!~"  
  
"ChiChi, leave the room...Pan, get your ~ass~ in the dress."  
  
"~Make me!~"  
  
The dialogue cut out into a series of devastating crashes and thumps that made the house shake.  
  
Gohan chose this moment to enter the living room.  
  
"Sounds like Pan finally found a 'good sparring partner'," he chuckled. The minute that he stepped into the room however, he froze, and his good-natured laughter left him. He stiffened, glanced between Vegeta, Bulma, and Trunks, turned on his heal, and left the room.  
  
Trunks noticed, but didn't say anything.  
  
"Mom?" Pan called down from the top of the stairs. Her head was stuck around   
the corner, but she remained hidden behind the wall. Videl turned and looked up. "Where's the curling iron?"  
  
"I don't have a curling iron..."  
  
"No, mine."  
  
"You have a curling iron?!"  
  
Pan threw her hands up into the air and disappeared.  
  
"I will get this dress on you," Bra could be heard saying.  
  
"Get out. I'll wear a flippin' dress, but I'm doing this ~my~ way. The way I ~intended~ to do. Alright?" Pan said, almost laughingly.  
  
There was a pause. All eyes seemed to be focused on the top of the stairwell.  
  
"You just wanna make yourself beautiful for my broth-"  
  
Bra was cut off by a loud and earsplitting slap. Vegeta pushed himself away from the wall, his eyes large and angry-no one slapped his princess. Gohan reentered the room, his eyes seemingly looking through wall to where his daughter was upset and in emotional pain-he had taught her not to slap unless she had good reason.  
  
"Eep!" Bra squawked as the blow sounded. She eep!-ed again, and Pan's voice, quiet and cruel, floated down to the rest of them.  
  
"~Never~ say that again, am I understood? I have put up with you and your attempts to hook me up with your brother for more then 10 years. Whatever childhood crush I had is dead, alright? ~Dead.~ If I ever hear you say that again, I swear to Dende that I will ~make~ you learn how to fight, even if only to protect yourself. Alright?"  
  
Nothing.  
  
"~Alright!?~" Pan's voice was louder this time, more strained.  
  
"Yes," Bra whispered, the word hanging in the air. "I understand. No more."  
  
"Good."  
  
A door slammed, shaking the house. Bra stumbled back into view, a large red hand print across her left cheek, her eyes wide and shimmering. Vegeta leapt to the second floor railing, Gohan beat him there by blurring. One father ran to a daughter, holding her face, inspecting it and turning towards the direction his daughter's best friend had disappeared in. The other father ran to a doorway, pounding on a door, calling to his own daughter, demanding to know that had happened.  
  
Neither child said a word.  
  
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A/N: couldya review? please? I NEED HUMAN FEEDBACK!!!!!!!!  
  
-Panabelle ;P  
www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers/  



	12. Chapter 11: Let it Die

Disclaimer: I own a piece of torn up paper. If you try and sue me, that's all you'll get. A piece of paper. Torn up. It had the word "die" written on it. So the owners of DBZ can't sue me for claiming their stuff. I can't claim it. I only own a torn up piece of paper with the word "die" on it...if anybody can sue me, it's Jack the Ripper.  
  
A/N: Sorry about the confusion with the last chapter...AND I HAPPILY RENOUNCE THE BONEHEAD COMMENT! People reviewed! And it's a good thing 'cause I'd run myself into a corner...word of advice, I'm not out yet, so reviews are GOOD THINGS right now. Thankz!  
  
Oh, and to everyone who left a note for my Chibi Trunks action figure- ~I~ need the ego boosters, not him. And to Emerald-no! He will ~NOT!!!~ marry you! I won't let him.  
  
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Petrified Tears  
chapter 11  
  
  
Pan came back downstairs a few minutes later, and Trunks nearly choked on his tongue.  
  
She gave him the oddest look as he started gagging, but said nothing, and managed to suppress her smile.  
  
She looked good and she knew it too.  
  
While Bra could take an hour and completely remake a person, from shoes to hair to dress to make up, Pan had taken maybe 5 minutes and made herself absolutely beautiful-and yet she wore no make up, and had done nothing with her hair.  
  
*Stupid!*  
  
She stood at the top of the stairs with a slightly sheepish look on her face as Gohan came up behind her, still worried, but not panicking any longer. He put an arm over her shoulders, and as she looked down into the living room, she blushed.  
  
He wanted to slam his head into a wall.  
  
She was dressed up enough to be able to slip into a formal party, but not enough for even a high school dance. The khaki cargo skirt was tight in the hips, stomach and butt, but still loose fitting, just tight enough to show how thin she was, to show that she had finally acquired a figure. It reached her ankles, he could see one unlaced combat boot on one foot, and one white half-sock on the other. She held the other boot in one hand. A tight navy blue tank top showed her toned arms, and a tattoo.  
  
Damn she looked good.  
  
"Panny!" ChiChi cried, seeing the tattoo, and Pan's blush deepened. But the sheepish smile was still there. She ignored her grandmother for the moment, then let her eyes fly across those gathered downstairs. They passed over him, then shot back, and suddenly she was running down stairs.  
  
He blinked and realized that she wasn't looking at him. She hadn't even noticed him yet. Her eyes had landed on Bra, who leaned huffily against the picture window, looking out over the surrounding trees. Bra had noticed her friend, but was too busy trying to keep her hurt from showing, trying to forget about the little episode upstairs.  
  
Suddenly Bra lurched forward, almost into the picture window, and she looked over her shoulder, at Pan's wide and brilliant eyes. Bra turned her head away.  
  
"Look, Bra," Pan said quietly, just loud enough for Bra to hear...Vegeta and Gohan were too busy trying to puzzle out their daughters too pay attention, everyone too startled by Pan's tattoo to speak. But Trunks was close enough to hear, he kept his face impassive as he eavesdropped. "I'm sorry...something happened last night and I'm edgy, 'k? But I'll make it up to you. Alright?"  
  
Bra ground her teeth. "Tell me what the hell could have you so 'edgy'," she hissed.  
  
Pan shook her head. "Uh uh...that's the one thing you can't get out of me...but how 'bout this...we'll go shopping tomorrow...you can get me into anything you want to get me into-within reason. K?"  
  
Bra's interest was piqued, but she wasn't that shallow...she'd need more prompting.  
  
"Bra-alright...I will buy anything you want me to...no tomboy tomorrow...alright? And I'll wear it in ~public~...to your birthday next week."  
  
Bra lightened. "No tomboy?"  
  
Pan sighed and let go of her friend, standing next to her in the picture window, setting her boot on the sill and untying the laces. "No tomboy," she replied with a smile, shaking her head. Her hair swished across her back and shoulders. Trunks noticed the blue bandana hanging out of her cargo pocket. Apparently she wasn't done getting dressed.  
  
"You promise?"  
  
Pan laughed. "Yes, I'll make the extra effort and shave my legs in the morning, alright?" she relinquished, looking up at the ceiling, suddenly aware of what she had gotten herself into, but not sounding like she regretted it.  
  
Bra let out a quick cry of happiness and threw her arms around her friend.  
  
"On one condition," Pan whispered, her voice dropping. Trunks strained his ears, tried not to make it obvious that he was doing so. His chest hurt from the absence of the beating of his heart, his eyes still itched, his mind was still plagued by what he had done to his mother only an hour ago, but the fact that she wouldn't tell Bra, and that Gohan obviously didn't know, calmed him, allowed him to let himself think that she'd forgive him in time.  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"That you remember what I said..."  
  
"About..."  
  
"It's dead Bra, and I have no intention to resurrect it...it was just some silly crush I had when I was a kid...no trying to set me up with your brother...alright?"  
  
"Alright."  
  
Trunks felt like falling over. He felt like dying.  
  
He felt like he already had.  
  
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A/N: Remember...reviews fill me with purpose and motivate me...otherwise I take copouts...up until 10 minutes ago, I had every intention to have Gohan and Pan duke it out and have Trunks butt in, end of fic. I don't think you want that. Review, and it won't happen.  
  
-Panabelle ;P  
www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers -----SIGN MY GUESTBOOK!  



	13. Chapter 12: Seeing Stars

Disclaimer: I own nothing...but my Chibi Trunks action figure owns a Powerbar.  
  
A/N: I like pie. Do you like pie? I like pie.  
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Petrified Tears  
chapter 12  
  
  
"Panny!"  
  
She turned away from Bra, picking her boot back up. She tried not to notice Trunks, who stood like a statue with rigid shoulders and no emotion on her face, but she couldn't help it. She almost blamed herself, but she didn't know if he was just startled by her tattoo like everyone else, or if he really was afraid of her father, like she'd accused him of being that morning before he'd taken her home.  
  
"Yes Daddy?"  
  
"Come here."  
  
She bounced back up the stairs as ordered.  
  
"~What~, Little Girl, is ~this~?" he demanded, pointing at her right arm.  
  
She shrugged and looked down at her shoulder.  
  
"A tattoo."  
  
"Pan..." he warned.  
  
"A marking on the skin made by thousands upon thousands of tiny needle pricks with needles containing inks, and that is permanent for life."  
  
"Pan..."  
  
"Very expensive in the states only because of health precautions."  
  
"Pan..." his temper was running short.  
  
"Very painful by human standards, annoying by saiyan."  
  
"PAN!"  
  
She laughed and sat down on the stairs, tying the boot already on, setting the other next to her.  
  
"Daddy, a friend of mine that I made in Cali had a dad who owned a tattoo parlor. His dad was a pretty respectable guy, and really paranoid about disease and stuff. I knew that his business was clean...and I was really down for a few days after I'd been settled for a few months, and I decided I needed to change. So I got the tattoo one night after a party, and the next morning, decided to think of it as a way to forget, and to remember."  
  
"Pan?"  
  
She laughed at her father's lack of vocal eloquence.  
  
"It's the four star dragonball Daddy, the one Grandpa always thought was Great-Grandpa Gohan, and the one that I like to think is him now. I got the tattoo so that no matter what I do or what I become or anything like that, I'll never be able to forget any of that, of Grandpa, or of what all of us have ever done for the dragonballs, or each other. And it helps."  
  
"Really." His tone was disbelieving.  
  
She almost laughed out *Daddy! You learned a new word!*, but didn't feel like getting smacked or chastised. But she did laugh. "I don't scream at the word 'dress' anymore, do I?"  
  
"No, but you do scream at the sight of it."  
  
Pan glared at her mother and grandmother.  
  
Boots on now, she threw the hem of her skirt over her feet and stood up. With a practiced motion, she swept her hair off of her neck, missing two chunks by the sides of her face. She quickly pulled the hair into a tight and simple bun at the back of her head, and tied it in place with the bandana she had had in her cargo pocket, using it as if it were a ribbon. While everyone watched, she grabbed the two chunks by her eyes, and held them out in front of her, eyeing them quickly, before wrapping them around her pointer fingers, holding them by her face.  
  
Her ki flickered momentarily, and she dropped her hands back to her sides. The two chunks fell softly into place, each a perfect ringlet.  
  
"How'd you do that?" Bra murmured, awe-stricken.  
  
Pan laughed, trying to get the rest of the bunch to lighten up. From the look of it, Trunks just wanted a bed and a beer. Vegeta was indifferent as always, but was smirking approvingly from her transformation of ki into curling iron. Bulma was focused more on her son, she seemed troubled for some reason.  
  
Her mother and grandmother were nodding approvingly at her appearance, behind her, her father was beaming with fatherly pride.  
  
"Bra, it's amazing what you can learn when you're drunk. Now come on, let's get this banquet over with before Trunks dies with nervousness." She hurried out the door with her blue-haired companion as Trunks stiffened, and her words registered in her father's head.  
  
"~DRUNK!?!!?~"  
  
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A/N: I like reviews, do you like reviews? You would if you were an author. I like reviews. You should review and keep Panabelle happy...otherwise Panabelle not feel like writing.  
  
-Panabelle ;P  
www.angefire.com/dbz/storytellers  
  



	14. Chapter 13: I WANT GRANDBABIES!

Disclaimer: I don't own a thing. Just the plot to this story.  
  
A/N: Hello? Hi. I updated. You review. It's a give and take.  
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Petrified Tears  
chapter 13  
  
  
The ride to the banquet was a quiet one, everyone laughing and talking about the last party Bulma had thrown, all hoping that tonight's party would be just as good as all the rest.  
  
But it wasn't that pretty a seating arrangement.  
  
Thinking it'd be cute-and not entirely sure of what had happened the night before-Bulma had placed her son next to Pan. On Pan's other side sat Bra, biting her tongue, not about to mention the fact that they'd make a cute couple.  
  
And across from them, sat Gohan.  
  
"So, Pan," Bulma said from where she sat wedged next to Vegeta and Gohan. She tried to avoid her son's eyes, and still keep a wary and worried eye on him at the same time. "How did things go last night?"  
  
Trunks nearly gagged again, turning his head and coughing violently. Pan turned and looked at him.  
  
He didn't look well to her, his face was pale, his eyes dark and haunted...his eyes made her think of the picture her father had of Mirai Trunks, but why should he have the haunted and dead-on-top eyes of his parallel timeline counterpart?  
  
But he still looked good, she had to admit that. The careless way in which he was dressed was enough to make most girls faint. The mussed look to his hair would drive any girl crazy.  
  
But Pan wasn't any girl, she'd grown up with him, knew how to hide her feelings around him. And besides, she didn't like him like that anyways, that had just been a silly crush. He was too good a friend to lose...if she hadn't already.  
  
"Pan?" Bulma repeated, noticing the flicker of guilt that passed across the girl's eyes.  
  
"Oh! Yeah, sorry Bulma." She blushed, then glanced again at Trunks. Reluctantly, he settled back into the seat, wedging himself once again between her and ChiChi. "Well...if you ever want to take Trunks to Juno's again, you'll have to buy the restaurant, he and I kinda got banned. For life."  
  
Bulma nodded, her eyes twinkling.  
  
Pan knew the twinkle, and Trunks did too. They ignored it.  
  
"After dinner, we didn't know what to do, 'cause we still had about a year and a half to catch up on, and it was early anyways, so we..." She trailed off, turning to look at Trunks. "You know, you have a mouth and you have a voice. You ~can~ help."  
  
He ignored her, his arms crossed over his chest, eyes closed.  
  
Damn he looked like Vegeta.  
  
It looked good on him.  
  
She sighed, shaking her head.  
  
"Ok...to make a long story short, 'cause I don't wan to get into it and he is obviously ~not~ going to help, we went to the beach, talked, made up constellations, and then he brought me home."  
  
Bulma raised an eyebrow, then looked at her son, meeting his eyes. He glared back, daring her to say what she thought.  
  
"Pan, I get the feeling something happened between 'made up constellations' and 'he brought me home', am I right?"  
  
She sighed. "Yeah..." Trunks stiffened-not visibly, but being crammed next to him was enough to tell her-obviously afraid of what she'd say. Pan started to tighten her hands into fists, but then stopped herself, forcing her hands open. "When I was in California, I really didn't know anybody there at first, most people were afraid of me. And I went to the beach one night, listened to the waves, looked up at the stars, and I saw this one star, and I swear to Dende with every fiber of my being, that the star is Grandpa Goku's. I..." She paused, her cheek twitching. Next to her, she could feel Trunk's fingers twitching against her arm.  
  
"Pan?"  
  
She looked down at her hands, seeing them bleeding again. Gingerly, careful not to get blood on her skirt, she reached into her cargo pocket, pulling out a pair of fingerless gloves she had once worn as religiously as the bandana that she had never been seen without. Pulling them on, wondering at the fact that they still fit, she forced herself to relax back into the seat.  
  
"I guess I just got lost in the past...I'm part human, I'm female, I'm susceptible to these types of things...I guess I just wanted a hug."  
  
"Pan?" This came from not only Bulma, but Gohan. Both looked from her to Trunks, who was trying to remain oblivious, but was obviously edgy under Gohan's scrutinizing gaze.  
  
"Not in ~that~ way," she growled, narrowing her eyes at them. They jumped back. "Not like-like- ~that!~"  
  
Gohan relaxed, Bulma sat back in the seat. Trunks opened his eyes and gazed at her in wonder.  
  
"Like a ~hug~. You know-brother-sister, best friend-best friend. Not, not-"  
  
"That," Trunks supplied, readjusting himself in the seat and closing his eyes again.  
  
"Yeah, now you speak."  
  
The limo driver hit a bump about this time, sending those in the back scattered about the seats. Bra wound up on the floor, Bulma clinging to Vegeta who hadn't moved at all. Videl grabbed Gohan, who remained in place for the most part. ChiChi had ended up knocking into Trunks, who, like his father, hadn't moved in the least, had only opened his eyes and dropped his arms.  
  
Pan found herself in Trunks lap, an arm wrapped around his shoulders holding herself in place, her legs approximately where they had been to begin with.  
  
Trunks looked at her curiously. Blushing a crimson envious of Bra's dress, Pan attempted to get back to her seat, but Bulma dropped her feet in her path.  
  
"You know what I want, you two?"  
  
"What?" they mumbled, both blushing on the verge of violet by now, well aware of how they must look, her sitting on his lap, an arm over his shoulders, his arms around her waist.  
  
"Grandchildren."  
  
Pan couldn't get back to her seat fast enough, Trunks couldn't get her off his lap fast enough.  
  
Everyone else was in hysterics by the time they had finally separated from each other, their faces dropping to a much safer tint then bloody-bruise.  
  
"Ha ha ha," Trunks snapped, crossing his arms again.  
  
"I didn't say it," Bra replied, settling back next to Pan, who looked about to kill   
something.  
  
"Young man, you are 34. I expected to have you married and with children by now," Bulma joked.  
  
His eyes flew open, angry and dark.  
  
"Oh, so now you're planning my social life as well as my career. Gee Mother dear, you're so ~very~ thoughtful."  
  
Everyone stared at him. They'd never heard him take up this tone with his mother before, and had never expected to hear him take it.  
  
"Trunks, that's not what I meant," she argued, trying to stand her ground. "I just meant that...well...I know you saiyans don't age as much as the rest of the world...but I ~would~ like to be around to see my son married, at least."  
  
He snorted.  
  
"I wouldn't be surprised to hear that you've had wedding plans formed for me and ~someone~ since I was five. Not surprised at all. You seem to enjoy making my life hell, so why wouldn't you have had the rest of my life ruined as well?"  
  
"Trunks, I just meant that-"  
  
"Oh well what you meant, Mother dear. I could care less. I really could. Why not just go along with you? Be the timid little doormat I've been all my life? I might as well just-"  
  
"Are you going through a midlife crisis or something, Pretty boy, or do you enjoy pissing off your mother?"  
  
Trunks' face fell and went blank. He turned to look at Pan, who had her arms crossed over her chest and was glaring at him. He could only stare at her. Slowly, he unfolded his arms, dropping them into his lap.  
  
"Seriously, are you going through a midlife crisis? Or are you trying to make up for putting your pride aside for five seconds last night?"  
  
"Wha-what do you mean?" he choked out, staring at her. The limo came to a stop.  
  
"Just that you have been an asshole ever since you dropped me off last night."  
  
And with that, she climbed over him and out the door.  
  
**************************  
A/N: Is that it? Is Trunks having a midlife crisis? I don't know. And apparently all my reviewers are boneheads again. (J/K, I really would like reviews though.)  
  
-Panabelle ;P  
www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers  



	15. Chapter 14: Midlife Crisis

Disclaimer: I OWN ALL!!! BWA HA HA HA HA HA H-ow! *sob sob, whimper whimper* Ignore the action figure. I'm broke. I don't own anything but him.  
  
A/N: I'm gonna be nice and post twice tonight, on top of my one shot that no one's reviewed. Here ya go!  
  
************************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 14  
  
  
*Midlife crisis. ~Mid~life Crisis. ~MIDLIFE CRISIS!?!?!?!?~*  
  
He dove out of the limo after her, grabbing her by the arm, jerking her around to make her face him.  
  
"What. The hell. Do you mean. By-"  
  
She shrugged her shoulders, oblivious to the death grip he had on her arm. "Just that Momma's boys rarely ever backtalk their mothers over things so trivial."  
  
He raised a hand, wanting to slap her, but forced himself to drop it back to his side.  
  
"Midlife crisis," he repeated angrily, his eyes flashing and dark.  
  
She nodded. "That's the only thing that I can think of, that's appropriate for those back in the limo."  
  
He squeezed her arm harder, wanting to turn the skin blue, wanting to cut off the circulation.  
  
"Trunks, usually, you're a sweet guy. Ever since last night-and granted in some way, you have a right to be pissed, but at ~me~, not Bulma. Ever since last night, you have been a complete asshole, really. I have never seen a mood swing like yours. Not even from women going through menopause! Which my grandmother is going through!" she hissed as an afterthought. She jerked her arm away from him, but didn't back down. "Listen, grow up and take it-whatever the hell ~it~ is-like a man."  
  
He wanted to slap her. He wanted to rip her head off and piss on it while it was still warm.  
  
He wanted her to experience this terrible pain that she had wrought, this pain that ate at his insides and wouldn't go away.  
  
He forced himself to calm down. Closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  
  
"Trunks," she said quietly, grabbing his arm and yanking him farther from the limo before he could make a greater ass of himself. "Listen, I know it's what's eating you, 'cause you're afraid that I'm going to squeal to my father and let him come after you. But I won't. You're too good a friend. Besides, I'm old enough to take care of myself. So you rejected me-big deal! You're still my best friend, and I would rather have that then something that probably wouldn't get much farther then dinner and a messy breakup. Alright? My dad doesn't know, and I intend to keep it that way, ok? So just relax."  
  
He sighed, opened his eyes.  
  
"Pan, it's not that it's-"  
  
"Just remember that even if you ~did~ reject me, we're still friends, I understand, looking back, it ~was~ weird. Ok? I meant what I said last night, we're friends."  
  
He ground his teeth, nodded.  
  
"Now go apologize to your mother. She was on the verge of tears when I stormed out."  
  
He shook his head.  
  
"The bitch can apologize to me."  
  
With that, he walked past her.  
  
Midlife crisis his ass.   
  
************************  
A/N: Now remember class, review and you'll all get A's. Alright? You'll also keep a cocky piece of colored plastic from coming after you! (That was Chibi Trunks, I just paraphrased. ;P) Please peoples? Review? I get a kick out of em....I promise, I'll get to the romance eventually (to let you know, I never said this was a t/p, but I'm not saying it isn't either), and I'll get to what the hell is up with Trunks as soon as I figure it out. Ok? Ok.  
  
-Panabelle ;P  
www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers  



	16. Chapter 15: Confession

Disclaimer: I don't own this. Actually, yes, I do. What I ~don't~ own is CC, Bulma, Trunks, Pan, and Gohan.  
  
A/N: Geez, you guys are just reading this waiting for me to get to a little Trunks/Pan romance? Not for the story itself? Now I'm hurt. I'm going to go cry.  
***************************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 15  
  
  
Pan stared after him. He had managed to calm down, but had suddenly gotten angry again.  
  
What the hell had happened to him?  
  
  
~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~  
  
  
"With Capsule Corps' new and improved super compact capsules..."  
  
Pan could only stare at him. How the hell did he do it? Twenty minutes ago he'd been a complete ass that had been too busy bitching out his mother and bruising her arm to think about anything but himself. Now, he was Mr. President, the leader of Capsule Corps, and the most wanted man in the world.  
  
How did he do it?  
  
She sighed, pushing her way through the crowd to escape Trunks' bullshit and get some fresh air. A few guys whistled at her in her parting, earning an, "*Ahem.* May I ask you 4 back there to keep your comments about the pretty girl to yourselves? Thank you."  
  
Blushing, Pan forced her way into the back lobby, where only select members of the community were allowed-her family and Trunks'.  
  
"Dende, how does he do it?" she asked the walls.  
  
"I could care less about how he does it, I just want to know what happened to him."  
  
Pan blinked, noticing that she wasn't alone. Bulma sat in the corner, wiping her eyes with her hands, trying to keep her from knowing she was crying.  
  
"Bulma? What's wrong?"  
  
"I was about to ask you the same thing."  
  
Confused, Pan walked to the older woman, sitting down next to her on the couch, pulling the bandana out of her hair, letting it fall to her shoulders, and handing it to her blue-haired companion, letting her wipe her eyes properly.  
  
"Bulma, what do you mean, ask me the same thing?"  
  
Bulma sighed, wringing the blue square in her hands.  
  
"I just get the feeling that you know what's eating him. The fact that you had as great an effect on him in the limo is testament to that...what happened to him Pan? Please tell me you know."  
  
Pan saw the hopeful glimmer in Bulma's eyes, heard the hope in her voice. She lowered her face, checking to make sure that there was no one else in the room.  
  
"I'm not entirely sure, Bulma, but I know it's tied to me...because he wasn't like this last night when he picked me up..."  
  
"What happened last night? Why's he acting like he is?"  
  
Pan sighed again, pulling off her gloves, looking at the now scarred wounds. They just wouldn't heal, but had finally closed...perhaps they had finally started to heal.  
  
  
*~*  
Mentally, she kicked herself, kicked herself for being so stupid as to think he had changed, to think that he'd be mature enough to see what she'd grown into, to think that he'd be mature enough to take a relationship seriously. Physically, she clenched her hands into fists inside of her overly-long sleeves, ignoring the pain as her nails popped through her flesh.  
*~*  
  
  
Or maybe she still had to pick off the scab, admit that it really did hurt.  
  
"I...I'm not sure, but I think he's afraid that I'm going to tell my father about something that shouldn't have happened last night."  
  
"What?"  
  
Pan looked up at Bulma, and decided that it was time to tear the head off of the scab.  
  
"You were right...there was more that I left out...completely innocent at the time and looking back at it...but if my father found out, he'd have Trunks in a noose. And me locked up for the rest of my life..." She paused, looking down at the four crescent shaped scabs on each hand. "A little while after he cheered me up about Grandpa Goku, Trunks got quiet...said something about his other half being taken away four years ago, and returned to him not long back. I assumed that he...well, yeah..."  
  
She paused, blinking back tears, listening to Trunks drone on in the conference room, checking once again to make sure her father wasn't near. He wasn't.  
  
"I guess he kinda forgot that he used to babysit me and all...for just a minute. He kissed me...and I kissed back...and that was all that happened...but my dad wouldn't believe that, not with Trunks' reputation with women, and not with all of the surprises I keep bringing up about my time in California...and Trunks knows that as well as I...I'm just scared he and I ruined our friendship...which is why I blew up at Bra...but he's...I think he's afraid I'm going to run to my father, tell him everything. I don't know...I think there's more then that...but I can't see what it is for the life of me..."  
  
Pan blinked again, tightening her hands into fists, trying not to admit to herself that Trunks had really hurt her, that she'd been in denial ever since she had awakened that morning.  
  
Suddenly, an arm slid across her shoulders, gripping her own, a comforting touch that Pan had felt probably once in her life. She turned her head, found Bulma giving her a half hug, assuring her and assuring herself at the same time.  
  
Pan smiled and reached up, gripping Bulma's hand.  
  
"I won't tell," Bulma whispered. "As much to save my son from your father's wrath, as to leave you with a sense of security."  
  
Pan grinned. "Thanks Bulma, for listening..."  
  
"Thank you, Panny...for trusting me, and for letting me know what's wrong with my son." She handed the bandana back to her younger companion.  
  
"But-Bulma, it's not-no, I said 'I think'...Bulma!"  
  
But Bulma had already stood and gone.  
  
********************  
A/N: Actually, yeah, I admit, this ~is~ a T/P romance...heh heh heh, T/P, Tom Petty.... :), melove Tom Petty!....ignore that. But yeah, this is a t/p. But this, obviously, isn't your normal everyday TP. Ok? Anyways, I have homework to get to, so keep up the reviews and I'll keep writing the stories. Oh, and note to fluffy...I know ~you~ aren't a bonehead, ppl who don't review are boneheads! Not you!  
  
-Panaballe ;P  
www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers  



	17. Chapter 16: How...how did....

Disclaimer: Do I really have to put one of these up here? I mean, I'm pretty sure I've made it pretty clear, and that all of you have figured out by now, that I don't own DBZ. I mean, seriously! I'm running out of stupid and sarcastic ways to say: I DON'T OWN DBZ OR DBGT!!!!!  
  
A/N: I really have no life. Sorry this is gonna be short.  
  
*********************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 16  
  
  
Pan sank back into the pillow, staring at the ceiling.  
  
*How the...how...*  
  
She shook her head, rubbing her temples, rolling out of bed and gripping a comforter to her chest. It wasn't that she was indecent, she just felt scared, small, everything she had always been afraid she was.  
  
Everything that she had sheltered herself from...but had only wound up locking up inside.  
  
She sighed, leaning forward against the window pane, letting the cool glass freeze the thoughts in her mind, letting it make them stop their terrible whirring and wheeling about her brain.  
  
Swallowing thickly, she looked back at the bed, at the head that lay on the pillow.  
  
*How did I get myself into this?*  
  
********************  
A/N: When I said short, I bet ya didn't realize that I was gonna leave you with just a screen's worth. Review por favor.  
  
-Panabelle ;P  
www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers ------ SIGN MY GUESTBOOK!!!!!  



	18. Chapter 17: Daddy Wouldn't Understand

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I only own the shopping cart I stole from Safeway...and the cardboard box I live in. That's right, I own nothing because I am a bum living on the plaza. I'm also illiterate. I am writing and posting this by sheer telepathy and a miracle.  
  
A/N: So, did I make ya wait long enough? Nah...I don't think I did.  
  
********************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 17  
  
  
Pan sighed, pulling the quilt around her shoulders, walking back to the bed.  
  
She looked down at the half-saiyan who slept curled up next to where she had been, shivering at the lack of her warmth.  
  
*How did I get myself into this?*  
  
She sighed, sitting down next to him and pushing a lock of hair from his face, wishing that his dark eyes would open and assure her that the world went on, that what had happened wouldn't be the end of her.  
  
She pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders, needing the comfort of memory-that's all she had anymore.  
  
*What am I going to do?*  
  
Once her father found out the whole story...nothing would ever be alright for her ever again.  
  
*******************  
A/N: Remember guyz, reviews motivate me. They make me feel less worthless. So review and I'll write more. I also like to torture you guyz...damn straight, I'm the queen of the cliffhangers-the evil kind, that is. ;P Just remember that. Review, and I'll post more sooner.  
  
-Panabelle ;P  
www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers  



	19. Chapter 18: For Better or Worse

Disclaimer: Me no own DBZ. Me just write DBZ stuff. Me only own Chibi Trunks action figure. He no marry no one. Just me.  
  
A/N: Howdy howdy hey! I know, I know...I'm evil. And you all want to kill me. I'm evil because of my cliffhangers. And 'cause the last two chaps were so short. Review, and I'll finally get around to not so evil cliffhangers.  
*****************************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 18  
  
  
Pan was sitting in her father's chair downstairs hugging her knees when Bra pulled up to pick her up for their day of shopping.  
  
Gohan sat next to her, rubbing her shoulders, telling her that it was ok, telling her that he understood, that it was alright. Videl hadn't made breakfast, knowing that her daughter was nauseous, not about to feed her, nor make her smell food. ChiChi was elsewhere in the house, fretting nervously, angrily yelling at Bulma through the phone.  
  
Bra stepped through the front door, knocking tentatively at the terrible stillness of the house. Usually the Son residence was warm and had a sense of love and ease about it, but it was silent this morning, silent and cold.  
  
"I don't care, Bulma! Do you have any idea of what he did to her last night? Do you?....~DOES HE?!~...." ChiChi's angry voice sounded from the kitchen, echoing in a cracked manor in the stillness.  
  
Bra looked to the living room, seeing Pan curled up in a chair, staring blankly at the wall, shuddering whenever someone touched her. Videl stood in the doorway, chewing a thumbnail as she watched her daughter fall apart. Gohan crouched before his little girl, both hands sitting on her feet, trying to tell her that he understood, and that whatever came of it would be accepted, for better, and never worse.  
  
"Panny, I understand, please, just...Panny! Listen to me- ~look~ at me!" His voice wavered with emotion. "Panny, please...I know it hurts, it has too...but please, understand that I know what you're going though, your mother does, your grandmother, we all do! Please...Panny..."  
  
Bra was about to turn on her heel and leave, letting the distraught family to cope, but Videl had seen her and set a hand on her arm.  
  
"Bra, don't go."  
  
Bra looked up at her.  
  
"I don't belong here, Videl. I'm probably one of the last people that she-"  
  
Videl shook her head. "Nonsense, you're family. You always will be. By blood or not by blood, you're family."  
  
Bra hesitated, but movement in the living room drew her attention.  
  
Pan stood on tired and wobbly feet, and limped to Bra, grabbing an oversized Adidas jacket from the closet along with her purse. Her jeans looked too tight, especially for this particular morning. Her blouse was wrinkled, she looked thin beneath the white fabric.  
  
"Pan, you didn't have to-"  
  
"I promised you no tomboy today," she said weakly, her eyes looking inward on herself, as if she were trying to figure out what was wrong.  
  
"Pan-"  
  
"No, Bra...I owe you this...let's just-"  
  
Bra cut her off with a gentle gesture, setting a hand on her arm, steering her gently out the door. She nodded reassuringly to Videl and Gohan, letting them know that she'd take care of their little girl if it was the last thing she ever did.  
  
As they started down the walk, Pan looked back to see her parents in the doorway, Gohan with a comforting arm around the waist of his wife. They watched her, worried, but she smiled back, and sank into the passenger seat of Bra's car.  
  
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A/N: BWA HA HA HA HA!!!! Yes, I'm evil, ain't it? Well guess what, I ain't saying nothing about the guy in Pan's bed until I get reviews. Yes, I enjoy torturing you. It's the only thing that brings me joy in life. ;P  
  
Now...if only I could get people to visit my site and sign the guestbook.....  
  
-Panabelle ;P  
www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers  



	20. Chapter 19: China Doll

Disclaimer: I don't own anything but this...and not even this entirely.  
  
A/N: You love me! You really love me! Ya know, there's just something about waking up, checking your email, and finding 17 reviews + 3 ppl have signed your guestbook. If this keeps up, I might actually have all of my chapters posted and the story done!  
  
So, tell me, am I gonna explain the mystery man in Pan's bed yet?  
  
**********************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 19  
  
  
They rode in silence for quite awhile, Bra wanting to make idle chit chat, but not knowing how, not knowing if anything would send her over the edge like it had last night at the party.  
  
*Bastard! There's more to life then your Dogdamned pride! *  
  
Pan sat next to her, snuggled down in the warm leather seat, her face tilted back to greet the midmorning sun, content and relaxed for the first time since before he had snapped every thread left in her body the night before.  
  
Bra was tempted to drive all day, just following the sun, if it meant that it would keep Pan at ease, just like this.  
  
But she couldn't-at some point they would run out of gas. At some point the sun would duck behind some clouds, at some point they would run into traffic, or traffic would run into them.  
  
At some point Pan would catch on and make her stop...  
  
"Bra?"  
  
Bra looked over at her, seeing the dull twinkle to her eyes, seeing the careless ponytail that her hair was pulled back into, the slight color to her cheeks that the wind had brought them. She really was gorgeous when she didn't try to be...as miserable as she must be inside, and as little as she had tried to be, her outfit was simple but noticeable, her hair sleek and not a hair out of place.  
  
Bra shook her head. Pan needed a friend, not a beauty consultant.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"You know, you ~can~ talk to me...I won't break."  
  
Bra blushed guiltily. She should have known that Pan was aware of why she was so quiet.  
  
"I...Pan, I just don't know what's safe to talk about, I don't want to-"  
  
"All topics are touchy, Bra, they are with any person. Some topics too personal, others not personal enough. Some too stupid, too intelligent, too practical, too odd. No subject is perfect," Pan said quietly, her voice content, with a twinge of sadness, or maybe regret. Just the same, her voice was beautiful, like dark wind chimes, their colorful and melancholic tones floating on the air on a day when the world just doesn't seem right, but you do.  
  
"You know what I mean," Bra muttered, her mood towards Pan wavering between pity and pitiful.  
  
Pan smiled, kinda. Her smiles hadn't been the same since the party had started the night before. They'd been quieter, sadder, less bright and goofy. Instead of lighting up her face, they merely twinkled like a dim and distant star on a dark night. Her lips didn't draw back to show her teeth, her mouth didn't part with childish laughter...they just drew apart now, her teeth barely gleaming between her lips.  
  
"I know what you mean, Bra...and I understand that you might want to treat me like a china doll, but I've suffered through worse...I'll survive this...maybe..."  
  
Bra nodded curtly, mentally scolding herself. Scolding herself for almost getting angry with Pan for being mellow and quiet and sad...and scolding herself for scolding herself-Pan would beat the shit out of her if she knew what she was thinking.  
  
"Well...what do you want to talk about?" she tried tentatively, testing the ice.  
  
Pan rolled her eyes.  
  
"Do you really think that's the wisest thing to ask me? I ~want~ to talk about killing him...even though I'm incapable...but I'm not about to let myself."  
  
Bra threw her hands in the air, despite the cars in front of her and the slope they were on. Pan wasn't phased in the least.  
  
"Oh! Yeah! Depend on me for all conversation!"  
  
Pan snickered. "It's what we usually do, isn't it?"  
  
"Yeah, well, usually you don't want my-"  
  
"Try talking about the torture you're going to put me through today. There's a good topic."  
  
Bra looked at her skeptically.  
  
"Pan, I'm not going to-"  
  
"Come on," Pan grinned, looking up at her from her slouched position in the passenger seat. "I need ~some~thing to do to keep my mind off of it, this might as well be it! Besides, a promise is a promise. This way, it works out to both of our advantages."  
  
"How's that?"  
  
Pan grinned, a genuine Son smile, just a little toned down. "You get me in a dress, I get free clothes, and a certain saiyan-asshole gets to keep his head!"  
  
Bra laughed.  
  
"Well, first we're going to go to Tamako's Tailorshop...she has the cutest little sundress, it would be adorable on you!...."  
  
*************************  
A/N: Nope, guess I didn't get to that yet. Will I ever? Dunno...depends on the review I get, and the signatures....I'm seriously, that page has been up since x-mas and has maybe 80 hits, all because of my own inability to use Meta tags...if anyone's willing to teach me, I'll love you. Anyways, thanks to all the people who reviewed...and a note to everyone: I stopped calling you boneheads! A few chapters ago, even, I think. People reviewed, so I retracted the statement. It seems I have a regular audience now. So I'm all happy.  
  
Review por favor!  
  
-Panabelle ;P  
www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers  



	21. Chapter 20: Trunks?

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ. I only own the ring my Chibi Trunks action figure gave me-all of you evil people who asked if ~they~ could marry him can just push off and be content reading this.  
  
A/N: Don't worry folks, I'm getting there.  
  
***************************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 20  
  
  
Trunks slammed the door behind him, startling his mother.  
  
"Trunks?" she called, placing a hand over the receiver. "Is that-" She cut off, growling back into the phone. "ChiChi, I think he's pretty aware of what the hell he did, alright?...~NO~ I'm not going to make him apologize-...CHICHI!..." After a few minutes, she slammed down the phone, shook her head, and chased after her son.  
  
"Trunks? Is that you?"  
  
Through the hole in the living room wall, she concluded it was, and ran to catch up with him.  
  
"Trunks, Trunks, would you ~please~ talk to me?"  
  
He stopped, turning his head to look at her over his shoulder. She stood a few steps down, a hand on the wall-or nervously fidgeting where the wall had once been.  
  
"Trunks?"  
  
He sighed, and turned, sitting down on the step and taking his head into his hands.  
  
She could only sit and stare at him. Less then 24 hours ago, the same question had taken him past the limits of sanity-even sanity in ~this~ household. And yet, now, here he was, sitting on the stairs, listening to her...  
  
Bulma hesitated, studying her son a little closer.  
  
He was crying.  
  
His shoulders shook-ever so slightly, but the jerky movements, though miniscule, were still there. He was controlling his breathing, but every so often he squeaked, or drew in a pained and shaking gasp. His hands weren't supporting his head, they were holding it, vise-like, his knuckles white from the pressure he was putting on his own skull. In one of them, he gripped a tattered piece of orange cloth-it looked like Pan's old bandana.  
  
Bulma moved to comfort him, but froze as she heard a footstep in the kitchen.  
  
Vegeta.  
  
Grinding her teeth, she shot forward and grabbed Trunks chin, jerking his face up to look at her. He looked so guilty, so betrayed, so pained-his eyes were in complete shock.  
  
"That's it, Mister, get your ass up to your room and wait for me to deal with you! I've had enough of your bullshit-in case you haven't noticed, I'm ~human!~ Which means I can't take as much shit as the rest of this household! And even if I could, I wouldn't stand for it! Now, get your ass up there and wait for me!"  
  
Trunks stared at her, then sneered angrily and shoved her off of him-not enough to justify a shove, just enough to slap her hand away, and stormed up the stairs.  
  
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A/N: I know everyone's getting antsy about me going off on a tangent and neglecting to give all information regarding that tangent. But just keep your pants on! I'm getting there!  
  
Review, and maybe I'll get there faster. ;P  
  
-Panabelle ;P  
www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers  



	22. Chapter 21: Broken and Dying

Disclaimer: OH- I- WISH I WERE AN OSCAR MYER WEI-NER, THAT IS WHAT I'D TRULY LIKE TO BE. 'CAUSE IF I WERE AN OSCAR MYER WEI-NER!, EVERYONE WOULD BE IN LOVE WITH ME!!!!!!!  
  
A/N: Whatdaya think of my disclaimer? Anyways, I'm getting to the guy in Pan's bed, but I have to clear up a few things before I can get to that chapter...don't worry, I'm not just making it up. Anyways, remember how I said in an earlier chapter how there would be tearjerkers? I get the feeling this might be one of them...just a warning. But I wouldn't change this chapter for anything, 'cause it's one of my favorites.  
  
**************************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 21  
  
  
Once in his room, he slammed his hand into the wall, his entire body shaking, before collapsing down on the floor, his back to the door and against the side of his bed. He looked up at the window, at the sunlight streaming though it.  
  
A moment later, his door was shoved open and slammed shut.  
  
He winced, bringing up his knees to hide behind, clutching the back of his head with his hands as he rested his elbows against his thighs.  
  
Quiet footsteps moved across the carpet, 6 of them, and Bulma sat down beside him, gently forcing him to take his hands down, and then gathering him into a hug, letting him cry into her shoulder.  
  
"Shh...there there...it's alright," she soothed, rubbing his back, amazed that her 34 year old son could still be as helpless as a 5 year old. But then...being Vegeta's son as well, she shouldn't be too surprised.  
  
They sat there like that for a few quiet moments, his tears and her words repairing the damage his attitude had caused the day before.  
  
"Now," she said quietly, pushing him back against his bed and turning to face him. "Do you want to tell me what's wrong?"  
  
He shook his head, his eyes on his hands as they rested in his lap.  
  
"Not really," he mumbled.  
  
She nodded, and made herself comfortable.  
  
"Care to explain why you blew up yesterday, then?"  
  
He shook his head again, his eyes dark and brooding, but not as sheltered as they'd been before. They were still lifeless, like his father's, but if she made him look her in the eye, she could read exactly what was wrong. But she respected him more then that.  
  
"Alright," she allowed lovingly, understanding perfectly. He'd tell her in time, he was too much of his father's son. All it would take would be one careful word and he'd bar his soul.  
  
"I...I know I owe it to you, and everything Mom...but I...it's the same thing...and I...I really don't want to talk about it..." he whispered to his fingers, to where he held them on his leg, his right thumb rubbing the side of his left index finger.  
  
She nodded.  
  
"I understand, Trunks."  
  
A few more moments of silence passed, before he looked over at her, shyly, like he once had when he'd only be a little boy...not ~her~ little boy, but a little boy of 8 who had just gotten into a fight with his best friend, or who had been chastised by his father for tormenting his little sister.  
  
"Mom?"  
  
"Mmm?" She looked over at him, opening her eyes and turning her face from the warm sunlight, letting it bathe only her cheek rather then the whole of her face.  
  
"Father was in the kitchen, wasn't he."  
  
She nodded, smiling.  
  
He laughed, but half-heartedly, his lip curling in what might have one day been a smirk, but now was all the happiness he could muster.  
  
"Thanks."  
  
She nodded, studying him as he blinked back misery, keeping something inside of him that he was ashamed of, that he didn't want the rest of the world to know about. His hair, although it probably hadn't seen a brush since his shower before the banquet, was disheveled-he usually resorted to finger-combing it when he couldn't find a brush...but now it was wind-blown, careless, his part lopsided on his head. His face was pale like it'd been when he'd come home the day before, his clothes rumpled, the shirt buttoned in the wrong button holes.  
  
Her baby boy was falling apart.  
  
He swallowed, feeling her eyes, and raised his face to look out the window.  
  
"If Father weren't outside sparring, I'd have gone out onto the roof," he mumbled, just to cease the silence.  
  
She smiled. Even if he looked like Vegeta, and acted like him, he was still her son.  
  
"I used to go out there a lot when I was younger, before you were really ever old enough to take care of yourself."  
  
"You mean you still go out there every night?" he mumbled, laughing bitterly at his own joke.  
  
She shook her head.  
  
"I haven't been up there since you were five...that was the last time I went up. That was when I learned to cope with the fact that my husband is a bastard, his ego clashes with mine, he wants to run my son almost to the verge of death, he'll never show he cares for me in ways that any sane human being or semi-human being could comprehend, and that despite all of that, I love him dearly."  
  
Trunks sighed, staring through the window pane, out at the clouds.  
  
"I wish I didn't take after him so much," Trunks grumbled miserably, his eyes threatening to break. He didn't allow them to; squeezing them shut and jerking his head to one side a few times, trying to keep the floodgates intact.  
  
Bulma settled back into the side of his bed, closing her eyes again.  
  
While she wanted him to trust her, she didn't want him bawling...she knew enough about pride to know it'd shatter his. She decided she'd try a different approach.  
  
"Trunks...you never did tell me how your night out with Pan went," she yawned, snuggling back into the square of warm sunlight.  
  
Her eyes were wrenched open by the most painful sounding, gut-tearing sob she had ever heard in her life-coming from her son.  
  
Immediately she came alive, crawling over and cradling her baby against her, mumbling into his hair as she buried her nose into the top of his purple head, holding him against his own demons and monsters, rubbing his arm, his back; had he been any smaller she would have pulled him into her lap. She rocked him back and forth, forcing back the tears that his pain was bringing her.  
  
He gripped at her shoulder, his touch, usually so strong it would break bones, barely strong enough to hold on. He huddled against her, no longer the mature, sophisticated, all grown-up man he was by age and right. He had no dignity left, had only pain, pain that was eating him from the inside out.  
  
The only thing keeping him together now was pride, pride between him and the rest of the world, pride to prove to himself that he was the son of a prince and a genius, and the rest of the world had better kiss his ass...pride that right now was the only thing keeping him from trying to kill himself.  
  
Bulma held him tighter with this realization, and for once it seemed that the mother was physically stronger then the child, for he shuddered under her arms, his hand slipping from her shoulder.  
  
"Trunks, Trunks, what's wrong? Huh? Sweetie? Please, tell me!" Bulma strained into his hair, her voice tight, tears streaming down her cheeks now. "Please, sweetie...Mommy's here, don't worry...just tell me what's wrong!"  
  
"I used her, Momma," he mumbled hiding his face against the soft flannel of her shirt. "I used her, and she knows it!"  
  
****************************  
A/N: Ok, so now we know what's been wrong with Trunks. But what does he mean by "I used her"? Hmmmm. Well, you'll just have to wait and find out. So, was this a kleenex alert, or just a bittersweet mother-son bonding? (Not ~that~ kind of bonding, you sickos! ;P)  
  
Anyways, thanks to all who reviewed, reviews me a lot to me, which is why I'm always harping for them. So, could ya review this chapter for me? The more reviews I get, the faster the next chapter comes out.  
  
-Panabelle ;P  
www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers  



	23. Chapter 22: Bassackwards Colors

Disclaimer: The dress is mine.  
  
A/N: You know, I really had no intention to post this until I got more feedback on that last chap...and believe me, I don't ~want~ to post this, but I'm tired, I'm easily swayed, and fluffy just told me to post. So I'm posting. I'm gullible when I'm tired. Seriously. You could get me to confess to murder when I'm tired.  
  
************************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 22  
  
  
"Pan! That is so adorable!"  
  
Pan blushed, turning to look at herself in the three mirrors behind her.  
  
She had to admit, she looked pretty, but not pretty enough for...  
  
She shook her head. No, that wouldn't get to her, not here, not in public, not in anywhere but the safety of her own house where she could hide in her father's arms, hide from the rest of the world, and pretend that nothing had happened, nothing at all.  
  
Right now, she just had to tell herself that her tattered dignity was on the line...to at least wait until she was back in the car with Bra, where she could sulk outside of the limelight.  
  
"Pan, what do you think?" Bra asked her, jumping up onto the platform next to her, shooing the woman fitting the dress away.  
  
Pan studied herself.  
  
Bra had gone all out today-pedicure, manicure, a new hair-style, a little bit of make-up, not enough to notice, really, just enough to make her shimmer. She already had about two other dresses, 4 pairs of shoes, 3 pairs of jeans, and 7 shirts and blouses sitting in Bra's trunk, all courtesy of probably her only remaining best friend in the world, next to her uncle.  
  
Her hair was still as simple as it'd been when she'd been picked up, but it was layered now, her bangs even. The make-up on her cheeks was pale, glittering, her lashes glissed by mascara, but not noticeable. The lip gloss allowed the shimmer to spread evenly across her face. Bra said that when she finally figured out what to do, when all of this was as over as it was going to get, the twinkling would spread to her eyes, when the spark that was Pan came back.  
  
Pan looked at the dress again. Bra wanted her to wear it to her birthday party next week...since it was still warm out (of course, Bra wouldn't have it any other way!), it would go perfectly. Navy-blue-bordering-on-black, it came to just above her knees, hugging her body like a dream. An orange embroidered dragon flew along the bottom hem, very reminiscent of the mighty Shen-Long. An orange cord tied in the back, coming under her breasts, tightening the sundress to show that Son Pan, the infamous tom-boy, had boobs. Even tied, the ends of the cords hung down her back to her rear. Two navy blue spaghetti straps held the dress up.  
  
Pan loved the dress, there was no way she couldn't.  
  
Bra knew it too.  
  
She set her hands on Pan's shoulders.  
  
"What'd we'd do, is we'd just up half your hair, and tie it back with an orange ribbon the same color as the cords...or we could find you an orange headband. I have an orange cardigan at home that you can have, I've never looked too good in the color, it was a present from my grandfather-color blind old coot," she laughed affectionately. "For shoes, well, those blue-ish black pair of strappy sandles with the inch and a half heal would work perfectly."  
  
Pan smiled at her reflection.  
  
"Bra?"  
  
"Um hmm?"  
  
"You had this dress ordered in advance, specially made, didn't you."  
  
Bra grinned at the statement, giving her friend a squeeze.  
  
"Guilty as charged! I was hoping I could con you into shopping a few nights ago, so that you could wear it to your belated-welcome back party...but after what happened, I'm kinda glad that I couldn't get you out here."  
  
Pan nodded, turning to look at her side.  
  
Was she really this thin? Was she really this petite? ~Did she really have a figure?!~  
  
Bra grinned at her friend's shaken expression.  
  
"Well, Pan, think I can get you into it next week?"  
  
"It's the same colors as my old gi...only reversed," Pan mused, her fingers flitting slowly over the hem and embroidered dragon. "Like...like Daddy's had been for a while...."  
  
"My mom has a picture of Goku in a blue gi with a orange shirt, something like that, I know that the majority of it was blue anyways-anyway, she has a picture of him in his normal colors gone bassackwards from when they were kids hunting for the dragonballs."  
  
Pan smiled, her eyes lighting just a little, misting just a little. Quickly, she drew her fingers under her lashes before the mascara could run. Her lips parted in an almost genuine Son smile. With a quick gasp, she turned and caught Bra in a hug.  
  
"I take it you like the dress."  
  
Pan nodded, not trusting herself to speak.  
  
"Nice to know I got you happy for at least five minutes of today."  
  
Pan stepped back, looking down at the dress.  
  
"Who'd have ever thought that I'd actually ~want~ wear an honest to Dende dress?" she laughed, twirling around like a child.  
  
*If only Gohan and Videl could see you, Pan...then maybe they won't be so worried...well, worried about you wearing a dress, yeah, but not about recovering from what my-*  
  
"Bra, come on," Pan said, snapping her fingers in front of her face. "It's nearly six o-clock, and I promised my parents I'd be home for dinner."  
  
"You're actually going to eat?"  
  
"Bra, I haven't been sick for a few hours, and have honestly been starving since lunchtime. The only thing I want right now is my Grandma ChiChi's steamed rice and anything else she deems to cook."  
  
**************************  
A/N: fluffy, you better be happy now. Seriously, if no one reviews my last chapter, I quit. No kidding. I know that everyone's been good at reviewing my stuff lately, and I am in debt to all who reviewed, but if people don't review the last chapter, I'm not going to post anymore. Not until people ~do~ start reviewing it, anyways. Because, I've said time and time again: I'm writing this based on responses. I already have five different ways to end this fic, all typed out and saved, but never to be used simply because people reviewed and inspired me otherwise. So this speel is basically a big guilt trip. Review my last chap. Flame me, don't flame me, I don't care. Just don't skip over it.  
  
-Panabelle ;P  
www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers  
  
PS: fluffy, thanks for reviewing  



	24. Chapter 23: Mommy'll Make it Beter

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ. Niether does she. He doesn't either. That guy over there doesn't, nor the lady standing next to him. The guy with his mouth around the kegger spout says he owns it, but ignore him, he's drunk. The guy schmoozing the gal over there doesn't own it, neither does the girl. See the guy standing at the window? No, he doesn't own it either-the guy next to him does.  
  
A/N: Wow...23 reviews for the last chapter-yay! I guess you guys really wanted to see Pan happy again. And 8 reviews for the chapter before that...which really pisses me off. Listen peoples, reviewing at the end is all fine and good-but ya gots to bring up the chapters from before! Thank you to everybody who reviewed chapter 21 (by ~my~ numbering, not ff.net's), and to everyone who reviewed the last. Now, keep yer pants on (I actually got a review from someone saying they'd lost their pants and were about to lose their hair), I'm getting to the whole: "Pan looked back at the half saiyan sleeping with his head on her pillow" thing.  
  
Review por favor.  
  
******************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 23  
  
  
Bulma sat with him as he slept, sweeping hair off of his forehead as his head rested in her lap. He'd cried himself to sleep hours ago, and had been sleeping peacefully ever since. She had gotten up around dinner time to see if Bra was back from shopping with Pan, and to make Vegeta his dinner. Bra had told her that Pan was smiling again, that she'd have made a full recovery by the time her birthday party came around the following Friday, that if they started breaking the two in to each other again starting the next day, Pan wouldn't try to bite his head off again.  
  
Vegeta had simply stated that he'd take his dinner in the gravity room, and stormed off in his usual moody way.  
  
*~*  
"Mom? Is something wrong?"  
  
Bulma looked over at her daughter as she piled her husband's meal onto two platters.  
  
"No, why do you ask?"  
  
"You're quiet, and your face is streaked."  
  
Bulma shook her head, indicating for her daughter to take one of the platters as she herself scooped up the second.  
  
"It's just been a long day, that's all."  
  
"Did you and Trunks ever make peace?"  
  
She nodded, and hurried down the hall.  
*~*  
  
Bulma looked at the clock. That had been about 5 hours ago, about 6 hours after Trunks had gotten home.  
  
She gingerly pushed a lock of lavender hair away from his face. When she'd come back upstairs, carrying a small bowl of soup, small even for her standards, for Trunks, he'd been sitting up in bed, looking pitifully at the door, weaving the orange bandana between his fingers, his face blank. She'd given him the soup and sat up with him as he'd eaten. It'd been disturbing for her to see him regurgitate the soup back up, even after only a few bites, but she'd stayed, rubbing his back, coaxing him back to sleep.  
  
She sighed, wishing that she could just slap the girl and slap her son, and make everything better. All either needed right now was a bit of sense, and all would be better again. But that was her opinion...Gohan wouldn't think to kindly of anyone slapping his little girl, and she didn't want to see anymore pain come to her little boy.  
  
She rubbed his shoulder. Now that she knew what had happened, she could see why Pan was so shattered, why her own little boy was crying himself to death. But she didn't know what to do...the only thing she could think of was to lock them up in a room somewhere, and not let them out until they either duked it out or worked it out. But that was kinda illegal and-  
  
Bulma sat up, disturbing her son, who was too emotionally drained to completely wake up, and quickly settled back against the headboard, rubbing his head.  
  
*Who ever thought I'd be sitting up watching over my 34 year old son's sleep?* she asked herself. She smiled to herself. Even though the circumstances sucked, she had to admit, it was nice reestablishing the mother-son bond they'd lost when he'd taken over the company.  
  
She scratched the top of his head again.  
  
At least now she knew how to fix him.  
  
She looked back down at her sleeping son, and could very easily believe that he'd just broken up with a girlfriend at the end of high school, or had had a bad day at school that had nearly cost his history teacher his life. It really was hard to believe that he was in his thirties, he looked no older then he had when he'd graduated high school...same height, same build. No grey hairs sprang from his scalp, his face was as flawless as it had been when she'd forced him to take over the company.  
  
Dende, how he hated that office.  
  
She lovingly brushed a strand of purple hair from his face. But, hopefully, she knew how to make it easier for him to tolerate.  
  
"Don't worry, Sweetheart," she whispered to his sleeping form. "Mommy'll make it better, just like she always has." She kissed his forehead and settled back against the headboard, her face turning to the dawn pouring in through the window.  
  
********************  
A/N: Ah'righty. So whaddaya think? Review por favor...and if you don't want anyone else to read your review, email me. I don't care, I love feed back...it gives me purpose.  
  
And for the people (person?) who asked about the other endings that I've nixed, depending on how long it takes me to finish the actual story, or if I go braindead and run it into the ground, I might actually post those chaps that I have no intention of working into this story. But I might do that. So...yeah.  
  
Ok, that's it. Review, and I'll post again. Go to my page and sign the guestbook and I'll post faster.  
  
-Panabelle ;P  
www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers  



	25. Chapter 24: Stand in the Front Yard and ...

Disclaimer: I'M HENRY THE EIGHTH I AM, HENRY THE EIGHTH I AM, I A--*smack!* Chibi! Knock it off! Sorry about that, he doesn't realize that if I don't say I don't own this, I might get sued.  
  
A/N: YAY FOR THE REVIEWERS!!!!!! Seriously, people review, I post. So, here ya go. Enjoy!  
  
*********************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 24  
  
  
Gohan answered the phone on the first ring.  
  
"Hello, Son residence....oh, hi Bulma....Pan...no, I really don't think-" Gohan dropped his head and held the phone away from his ear as Bulma's voice cut him off and echoed through the receiver.  
  
"What I don't get is why we just don't tell her to stand in her front yard and yell...it'd be the same thing, she doesn't hear what we say, we can't get a word in edgewise, and we still hear her loud and clear," Pan mumbled around her breakfast.   
  
ChiChi whapped her on the back of the head. Pan laughed.  
  
"Bulma-what?..." Gohan sighed, his head still aimed defeatedly at the floor, the mouth piece of the phone in front of his face, the earpiece somewhere off to the side of his head. "Bulma, are you sure that's the brightest...yes, you're a genius, Bulma, no one could forget-you wouldn't let the-...Bulma...yeah, I know that...but one, I'm a schol-...alright, yeah, but I don't like the ide-..."  
  
Pan laughed as she watched her father rake a hand through his hair, laughing quietly at Bulma's enthusiasm.  
  
"Alri-Bulma, listen to me, please...just let me say something, ok?...Thank you! Bulma, yeah, I know it's tearing them bo-" He groaned, once again cut off by the infamous Bulma Briefs. "Alright, Bulma, but I don't like the idea of doing that to my ki-"  
  
He blinked, lifting his head and holding the receiver out in front of him, staring at it as if he had just been told it was Cell incarnate.  
  
"Should it surprise me that she hung up without letting me explain myself?"  
  
"No. That's why I say she stand on her front lawn and yell. We'd hear her, at a bearable decibel level, and she'd hear just the same amount of response from us."  
  
Gohan shook his head. "I used to wonder how she fell in love with Vegeta...now I wonder how Vegeta can stand to sleep with her."  
  
He promptly earned a slap upside the head from his wife.  
  
"No-Videl, what I mean is that she never shuts up! On Namek, with Krillin, and on the way there, she'd just keep talking and talking...and ~talk~ing...even in her sleep! She just doesn't shut up! I don't mean ~sleep~ with her," he cried, his face turning crimson. Videl, seeing as much, tried not to laugh. They have one daughter and try countless times for a second child, and the man ~still~ turns red at the mention of sex. "I mean actually ~sleep~ with her!"  
  
ChiChi laughed. "What'd she want, anyways?"  
  
"She wants Pan to meet her down at Capsule Corp in about an hour...I don't understand why, she cut me off every time I tried to ask. But, yeah. And she wants me to stay as far away from the building as I can without leaving the country."  
  
Pan rubbed her head, her light mood broken.  
  
"If that bastard-"  
  
"Pan!" ChiChi cried, staring at her granddaughter. "Watch your language!"  
  
Head still cradled in hand, elbow still resting on table, Pan muttered, "I have choicer words, if you'd like, Grandma."  
  
Grinding her teeth, ChiChi turned back to the sink.  
  
"Pan," Gohan said gently as she straightened up, setting her napkin on the table. "Bulma's orchestrating this...not-"  
  
"Yeah, well, let's hope so. If I have to set one foot in the same room with that pompous prince, I don't care if I leave the room in a body bag, I will do what I have to do to distance myself as far away from him as possible."  
  
*********************  
A/N: OOOOOOOOOO....wha'd he do!? Wha'd he do?! Review and you might find out.  
  
Review por favor.  
  
-Panabelle ;P  
www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers  



	26. Chapter 25: Replacement

Disclaimer: I don't own dbz, or Curious George, but I do own Evil Child's soul! She sold it for this chapter.  
  
A/N: You happy now Evil? You better be, you're making me ruin my reputation as the Queen of Cliffhangers. (I have an official title now. Heh! *Gives thumbs up*). Review! Yeah!  
  
******************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 25  
  
  
*Knock knock*  
  
Bulma opened the door to Trunks' office, smiling at Pan, who stood there, nervously combing her fingers through her hair. The girl had had enough sense to dress up, but to stay casual about it. Her black slacks were pressed, but rumpled from the flight here. Her light blue blouse was ironed and smoothed. The jean jacket over top allowed for the image of a high school senior, but remove the jacket-instant business woman.  
  
Aside from the tattered sneakers.  
  
"Pan," she greeted warmly, opening the door a little further, pulling the girl inside.  
  
"~What?!~" cried Trunks upon hearing the name of the visitor...heartbeats before falling out of his chair. "~Mother!~" he hissed, jumping up behind his desk, his fingers edging towards the button to open the windows.  
  
"Are you ok, dear? Bra said you were doing better, but that-Trunks, push that button and meet untimely demise."  
  
"I'm trying not to think about it," Pan replied quietly, her eyes straying past Bulma to Trunks, who had jerked his hand back at his name. "Being told I'm just a 'low class, never-amount-to-nothing, fighter ~bitch~' doesn't help to heighten one's self-esteem. Especially in the context of which it was brought up."  
  
Bulma rubbed her shoulders, then steered her to a chair in front of Trunks' desk. "Yes, well, I plan on keep you and Vegeta separated until he can come down from his 'throne' and 'mingle' with the rest of the world."  
  
Pan snorted.  
  
"Bulma, why'd you call me down here?" Pan asked, desperate to shift the subject, and also extremely curious as to why she'd been called to come visit...and Trunks' not knowing she was coming was enough to get anybody's interest piqued.  
  
"Didn't anyone ever tell you that curiosity killed the cat?" Bulma replied, grabbing her son by the shoulders and dragging him around his desk, shoving him down into the chair next to the one Pan was seated in.  
  
"Well, yeah, but Curious George never died...and seeing as how I'm part monkey, I think I'll survive," Pan tried, bringing her feet up onto the chair with her, cross-legged.  
  
"Sure he died...that's why the books stopped...the story ~Curious George and the Meat Shredder~ was just too gruesome for children's literature."  
  
Pan looked at Trunks in disbelief, almost on the verge of laughing, but still to put out about their "date" from two nights past to muster up the courage to laugh at his joke.  
  
Bulma leaned back against the front of Trunks' desk, watching the two of them. "It's always a good sign when you two are sarcastic and witty. It means you've acknowledged your problems and that life goes on."  
  
They stared at her. A moment passed, and nothing was said. Another moment passed. Then, all at once, from both parties: "Bulma-" and "Mom-"  
  
She held up her hand and cut them off.  
  
"You both told me about what happened at the beach. And I promised you both that I would tell no one. And I'm not telling either of you what the other had going through their head at the time. I'll spare you both that. I'll keep my promise. Gohan will not find out, ChiChi nor 18 nor Videl will find out about this through the gossip wagon. And I guarantee that Vegeta will never learn of any of this. And if he does, I have ways to keep his mouth shut."  
  
They stared at her. Pan risked a glance at Trunks, only to catch him looking at her through the corner of his eyes.  
  
"Alright, Bulma-that's all fine and dandy and good, but-but why call me down he-"  
  
"Ms. Haruna, Trunks' secretary, is going out of town this week to attend a family function. Normally, I would take over and keep the teeny-boppers at bay, but I'm caught up with plans for Bra's birthday party."  
  
"Why do I not like this?" Trunks whimpered, staring at his mother with large and imploring eyes.  
  
Pan could only stare at him.  
  
*From one extreme to the other...last I saw him, he wanted Bulma denounced a witch and swinging from a tree branch...now he's treating her better then any god of Earth could ever hope to be treated-by anyone!*  
  
"Pan, I would like you to sit in as secretary."  
  
She jerked her head around, black hair skittering about her face and shoulders.  
  
"~WHAT?!!?!?~"  
  
"It's just for five days. You know the routine by heart, and know enough about the business to keep Trunks from having a nervous breakdown."  
  
"Bulma-"  
  
"He's already had his midlife crisis," she joked, "and you snapped him out of that quickly enough. Or at least enough to get his job done and to keep him from killing a certain blue-haired person."  
  
"Bulma, that hardly-"  
  
"Mom, I would really rather not-"  
  
She held up her hand again.  
  
"Also, you have the ability to run him down and drag him back into this office should he try to escape it through the window."  
  
Pan dropped her head in defeat. Trunks stared at his mother, and something dawned on him.  
  
"Ms. Haruna wasn't leaving last week...you have your own ulterior motives for this, don't you?"  
  
"So what if I do?" Bulma replied, moving away from them to the doors. "So long as you two find that friendship you lost, I would think my 'ulterior motives' would be well appreciated."  
  
And with that, she closed the door behind her.  
  
*********************  
A/N: Happy Evil? Maybe, maybe not. Anyways, please keep reviewing! I promise, the next chapter explains why Pan's so shattered, ok? Just hang in there a little longer.  
  
-Panabelle ;P  
www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers  



	27. Chapter 26: Careless Words

Disclaimer: uhhh....Chibi? You wanna help? *whimpering* Aw, come on, I'm sorry I slapped you! *sniffle sniffle* Alright, just pretend I said something here about not owning DBZ...I need to comfort my Chibi Trunks action figure.  
  
A/N: Alright, as promised, this explains the "I used her" bit, kinda. Not in depth, but well enough for those who have been paying attention.  
  
*****************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 26  
  
  
Trunks and Pan sat in silence for a few moments, each trying to put their pride aside long enough to admit that Bulma was right: their friendship ~had~ suffered a painful fallout.  
  
But Trunks was the son of Vegeta, and Pan was Vegeta's latest victim.  
  
Pride meant too much to the two strangers at that moment.  
  
After a few minutes, Trunks got up and crossed his office, leaning against the wall and staring out the windows. Pan followed him with her eyes, but left her chin remaining in it's defeated flop against her chest.  
  
"You know, Pan," Trunks said quietly, watching her reflection in the glass. "If it makes you feel any better, I attempted to beat the shit out of my father after the party...wound up getting beat to a pulp and left for dead in the yard all night, but I did try."  
  
She snorted angrily. "Yeah, just what I need, my protective 'big brother', taking care of his 'kid sister'."  
  
He winced at the sarcasm in her voice. Her continued to watch her face, and then leaned his back against the wall, turning his face to look at her.  
  
"I wasn't protecting my 'kid sister', Pan. You're no kid anymore. I ~was~ part of what my father threw at you, you know."  
  
She raised her eyebrows, glaring at him, wondering at what the hell could have gotten into him.  
  
He sighed, raked a hand back through his hair, the other hand deep in his suit pocket.  
  
He had dressed carelessly again, it was a style that was very unlike him, but that-despite her anger-made Pan want to jump him sometimes. This was one of those times.  
  
The other time had been at the party.  
  
*~*  
"Trunks, really, you can tell me what's wrong," she whispered, dragging him into a corner, away from everyone else.  
  
He shook his head.  
  
"Do you know how hard it is to tell the ~problem~ what's wrong, Pan?"  
  
She had stepped back. His face was so like Vegeta's again, but still so much his own-dammit! Why'd she have to feel like kissing him when he was telling her to fuck off!  
*~*  
  
She looked at him, at the hair that hung in his face as he raked a hand back through it, at the rumpled white dress shirt, the black slacks, the-the sneakers!?  
  
She stared at his feet, shocked that the president of all-mighty Capsule Corp wore sneakers to work...ah, obviously, he hadn't been planning on ~staying~ at work today.  
  
"Pan, I know you meant it when you said you weren't going to say anything to Gohan...and it's not that I don't trust my mother...it's just my dad has that uncanny ability to read into saiyan nature-of which we both fall pitifully helpless to...and your dad's two steps down from genius. They'll figure it out...as if the party didn't make things all too clear already."  
  
She raised her eyes to his.  
  
"Pan, look...I'm sorry about the other night...I didn't mean to use you like that...I just...I don't know." He sighed again, shoving both his hands deep into his pockets.  
  
*Is this really the same guy that stood by and watched as Vegeta ripped me limb from limb?*  
  
"You don't know."  
  
He shook his head. "I thought I did...but it's not like my father didn't scatter that explanation to the wind with his bit about 'sayian bonding' and 'brat, the bitch is in heat and it turned you on'."  
  
*Yep, same guy.*  
  
"What ~did~ you think, Trunks?"  
  
He looked at her and shook his head.  
  
"That you were someone else." The words struck a blow in her mind, and she brought her knees up to her chest, hugging them with arms still sore from striking Vegeta.  
  
Trunks immediately jumped up, crossing to crouch before her, setting his hands on her feet, looking up into her eyes.  
  
"Pan, it's-look, I don't mean it the way it sounds-"  
  
She glared down at him. Beaten, he dropped his forehead forward onto her feet.  
  
******************  
A/N: Alright, do you guys get it now? This isn't in entirety, this is just the tip of the iceberg that's been tearing these 2 apart...the next 2 or three chapters will clear everything up beyond a doubt. I figure there are quite a few of you who are quite lost...to you few, I say "This is the third of a 3sie...meaning there are two that came before this." "That night" comes from the first two stories and the first four chapters of this one. This doesn't explain the guy in Pan's bed yet, but that's coming up. And yes, this chapter is cut into three semi-medium sized chapters just so that I can keep the POV's separate. Review and I'll get out the first character POV (this was the narrator).  
  
Review por favor.  
  
-Panabelle ;P  
www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers  



	28. Chapter 27: Break Stuff

Disclaimer: Do I really have to? Fine...I won't...just pretend there's something here...and make sure you pretend that it's witty.  
  
A/N: Wowwie...I'm gettie death threats now! Is this a good thing or a bad thing? Anyways, I now have my actual room back (yay! Panabelle has a bed to sleep in again! Yay!), so posts are going to be far and few between...you'll just have to deal with it. Read on and enjoy, but be sure to review, or Panny not gonna post for a LOOOOOONG long time.  
  
*********************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 27  
  
  
*~*  
"Brat, get your hand off of my son."  
  
Pan turned around, her quiet face growing cold and angry. She faced Vegeta without backing down, her nose inches from his, her eyes cold and mocking.  
  
"Hello, Vegeta."  
  
"Listen, ~Child~, the last thing I need is you mating with my son."  
  
Pan had jolted backwards as if slapped.  
  
"~WHAT?!~"  
  
She was glad Trunks had voiced that, she didn't know where her voice was-it was somewhere in the midst of rage, and she wasn't about to try and find it. The last time she had spoken while pissed had been in California...and had landed herself in a jail cell for a night. Apparently there was something called "disturbance of the peace" in America...  
  
"Brat, the bitch is in heat, and by the looks of your attitude, it has obviously turned you on."  
  
Now she was pissed. Fuck everything she knew about common sense-this was the Briefs household, people were used to yelling and screaming and death threats.  
  
"Where the hell do you get that from?!" she demanded, her eyes flashing green.  
  
Vegeta smirked.  
  
Dende, she was beginning to see that vindictive smirk a lot...him and his son...ugh.  
  
"You've always wanted in his pants."  
  
Pan shuddered with the rage running through her.  
  
"Why the hell would I want in his pants!?"  
  
Vegeta's smirk grew past vindictive, past maleviolent...now it was just plain evil.  
  
"The son of a prince? We all know that under it all you thirst for power just like the rest of us, even though you do a good job of hiding it from that naïve father of yours."  
  
Pan's anger, fueled by the events of the night before, of a life of being a girl respected for fighting, but not being able to be treated like a girl; anger from tired eyes, bleeding hands, shattered dignity, and stomped on pride had boiled to the breaking point, and she stood there, shuddering for a moment, trying to get a cap on it, trying to keep from killing the bastard Prince of Saiyans.  
  
Her fists were clenched so tightly her hands visibly shook back and forth, even across the room, blood running down her skirt and pooling by her feet. Her eyes were green now, bright green, her ki flickering angrily about her.  
  
Vegeta snorted at her display of 'power'. Then struck one blow too many.  
  
"The last thing I would ever like to see, is a low class, never-amount-to-nothing, spawn of Kakarot, fighter bitch in heat such as yourself bonding with my son. I would rather he marry a human."  
  
"Bastard!" Her rage had boiled over, tears streamed down her cheeks from his words. Her little box of emotions exploded, and she felt like she herself had exploded. "Bastard! There's more to life then your Dogdamned pride! The saiyan race is ~dead~, do you hear me?! There's a whole ~one~ saiyan left, plus four halflings, and me! You have no empire! No throne! You're no Dogdamned prince anymore-maybe back on Vegeta-sei you were, but not here! And where the hell do you get off saying I want your son? Ever heard of a ~friend~ Vegeta, obviously not, because the only friend you ever had was my grandfather, who you belittled at every chance you saw! And he's dead and gone!"  
  
She was shaking. Tears flowed down her cheeks one by one, playing a slow and endless game of follow the leader. That was it. She would rather be reduced to angry babble, then cry in public. Stepping forward, she slammed her fist into the side of Vegeta's head. To her surprise, he made a hole in the wall, winding up on the lawn outside.  
  
"And if you call me a bitch in heat, one more time, I swear to Dende, I will find someway to kill you! Even though you're stronger then I am! I'll-"  
  
A quiet hand placed itself over her mouth, a restraining arm circled her belly.  
  
"Panny, calm down."  
  
Her father's voice brought reason back to her mind.  
  
And she broke down and passed out, her anger gone.  
*~*  
  
Pan looked down at him, at the blob of purple resting on her feet. Her eyes were blurry from anger, from hurt, from everything that she had hidden from him all her life.  
  
"Then how the hell did you mean it?" she growled, her voice throaty from the tears lodged in her esophagus. "What the hell did you mean by 'I thought you were someone else'!?"  
  
He sighed, forced himself to look up at her eyes.  
  
"Pan, look...I...you mean a lot to me, next to Goten, you're my best friend. I am-I was-am-closer to you then I am Goten though...you understand a lot better...the last thing I have ever wanted was to hurt you, was to use you the way I did...I don't know...I-" He was stumbling. He was falling in her eyes, and he knew it. She could see it in the dark and depthless sheen over his eyes. Eyes once so blue and now so black. "Pan, I wouldn't have-"  
  
She stood up on the chair, stepping over him onto his desk, and hopped down on the other side, taking up his former position by the window and against the wall.  
  
"Pan, I don't know why I kissed you...part of me doesn't regret it, but most of me does, simply because in doing so, I used you..." He trailed off, still crouched by the chair, his back to her.  
  
As he had done before, she watched his reflection in the glass. Watched as he remained where she had left him.  
  
"Pan, I'm sorry I treated you like one of the whores I used to take out. I didn't mean to. But if it makes any difference to you whatsoever, I treated you a lot better then I ever did any of them..."  
  
She turned around. He was still crouched by the chair. He had his eyes closed, so he didn't notice as she walked around the desk and crouched next to him.  
  
"I guess I just forgot who you were...and you can't blame me for that...I hadn't seen you, hadn't heard from you, in four years, and when I called you that day about dinner, I was expecting to pick up the same you that went away to college. I didn't want to admit to myself that you'd have changed any, didn't want to admit to myself that you weren't the same kid you were when you left. When I picked you up though, I got that all too nasty taste of reality-you ~had~ grown up, you ~weren't~ the same kid...hell, you're not even a kid anymore Panny...and for a while there, on the beach, I forgot that I used to baby-sit you, that for a year, I was the only source of authority in your life-Goku was literally too much of a kid...and even then I wasn't the best source of authority..." He lowered his head into his hands, eyes still closed.  
  
"Normally I'd know exactly what to tell you, but I've forgotten who I am...I don't know how to explain myself then any better than I do now."  
  
*********************  
A/N: So, like I said. I'm not going to be here this weekend, so this'll probably be the last chapter before the end of next week. So just deal...but maybe reviews will persuade me? You never know....  
  
Review por favor!  
  
-Panabelle ;P  
www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers  



	29. Chapter 28: Wilted

Disclaimer: *sniff sniff....sob sob....wail, sniffle, sob, cry....hiccup.....sniff, sniff, sniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiff, snort.....sniffle, whimper, wail...sob sob, cry cry, boo hoo....wail, howl, blubber, sob*  
  
A/N: I'M ALIVE!!!!!! Yeah, I know I've kinda been making the rounds lately and putting in reviews here and there between classes and projects, but I AM BACK, BABY! Yes ma'am, yes sir, I am back. I have returned from the week that turned into a week and a half. So you guys happy with me? Read the chapter already.  
  
********************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 28  
  
He cringed at the silence. She'd probably left, he'd probably spoken to nothing but air. He'd just barred his heart to his desk and-  
  
"You'd never know how much pride means to me with ~my~ family...but it does."  
  
Trunks started, turning around, seeing Pan leaning back against the wall where he had stood earlier, her arms crossed over her chest, ankles crossed, head down and eyes closed, a stance very Vegeta-esc. She'd pulled the band from her hair, pulled the black elastic hair tie over her hand and onto her wrist. Her hair spilled around her face such as he'd never known hair to spill.  
  
"But it does," she repeated quietly, her eyes opening and shimmering with...with something. Trunks couldn't tell if they were tears-he ~knew~ they were tears, but whether they were hers or his own was a different matter entirely. She stood there quietly, proudly...tiredly?  
  
"Pan?" he mumbled, blinking rapidly and standing up, walking around the desk to lean back against it and look at her.  
  
"It does," she replied, her voice strong, but still not quite right. "Being the only female fighter in a ring of friends and family-all tied together by fighting, all fighting being done by the guys-is hard. It's nerve-wracking. You have to try twice as hard for others to accept you, and twice as hard as that for their respect...even if they don't necessarily like you."  
  
She lifted a hand, ran it through her hair, holding a fistful of midnight locks to the side of her face and in front of her, where she studied it, her fingers relaxed, the hair twined through them.  
  
"That's why I was always a tomboy growing up. I figured it was easier for you and the others to respect and accept me if I was less of a girl-if I dreaded Bra's shopping trips, if I didn't have Marron's timidness, if I didn't express myself as blatantly as Bulma or my grandmother. And that's why Grandpa Goku's disappearance hit me so hard...he was the only one besides Daddy and Uncle Goten that understood. The only one who understood that under it all, I was just a scared little girl."  
  
Trunks sat there, quiet and unmoving, shocked at this truth that she was suddenly barring to him and him alone without provocation.  
  
Without anything-that he could see-to trigger it.  
  
A truth that he had never even guessed at.  
  
"I know my mother was the same as I was-rough and tumble, always looking for a fight, overly and distressingly strong and assertive. But...not like this. Grandpa Satan was like that, she looked up to him. She wasn't ~expected~ to fight; it wasn't in her blood."  
  
"Pan-"  
  
"Grandpa understood better then anyone I've ever known. He understood that I was just a scared little girl who just wanted her father to make the world better, who didn't want to see her family and loved ones die. A little girl who wanted to sit down and laugh at school with friends, watch for boys and dream of growing up sooner then is my time, not training and scaring others with my strength. A little girl who wanted to someday feel she had to go on a diet because she ate too much-not a girl who could never be full, and who would lose 10 pounds nightly if she didn't eat enough."  
  
She dropped the hair, letting it fall across her cheek and drape itself over her shoulder, her arms crossed over her chest. She turned and looked out the window.  
  
"He understood that under it all, I was just a scared and terrified little girl who wanted to be able to go through at least ~one day~ in her life without having to worry about Dende's predictions of a growing evil coming true. That I wanted to live without knowing that any minute another terror could threaten Earth and that my father and family and friends would be running off to save it...possibly and quite often running to their deaths. He ~knew~ and under~stood~ that on the outside I wanted to go with all of you, that I wanted to join the bloodshed and do something honorable, do something for this planet that has been so good for all of us."  
  
Her voice got quieter, her eyes drifted to the plush carpet.  
  
"But that on the inside, I was screaming and crying from the pain, that I was in terrible fear for all of us. That I didn't want to be there. That I wanted the hurting to stop even if it meant death. That the only reason I fought, was because it was in my blood."  
  
Trunks swallowed, terrified of this side of her, a side of her he had never even known existed. It was as if there were two Pan's-the Pan that he had baby-sat, that he had watched grow up and had grown up with; and the Pan that was standing in his office, no shields, no mazes, no tricks, no walls, no pride.  
  
"I guess you could say that I am truly my father's little girl," she laughed sadly. "Those reasons are the same reasons he quit fighting...but at the same time, the only reasons he fought."  
  
Trunks cocked his head, catching Pan's attention. She looked back at him, forced a smile.  
  
"Training and sparring are one thing...pointless bloodshed and the killing of innocents are another."  
  
He nodded and she looked back to the window, her eyes clear and at the same time tormented, as if a terrible storm were raging inside of her.  
  
"That's one of the reasons I went to California," she sighed a moment later, "to go someplace where I didn't have to fight to be accepted...to decide if being someone who I wasn't-not entirely-was worth it. I wasn't happy...not happy at all...you saw me my senior year, I was a nervous wreck, though I hid it well from my father and from everyone but you and Bra...you two were the only ones to see me break down..."  
  
Trunks nodded even though she had her back to him. He didn't speak however, just leaned back against his desk and watched as she released her demons.  
  
"I-well, yeah...I went to decide which mattered more-my happiness, or the pride that I had built up around me my entire life-since I was six at least. From the first moment I set foot in California, I decided that it wasn't worth it. And that at the same time it was. So I compromised. I'd fight, but I'd be me. I'd flirt, I'd dress nicely, I'd throw away my tomboy routine but still keep it. I'd had it for so long that it's become part of me...the part I hate, and that at the same time, the part of me I love so much I can't live without it."  
  
She closed her eyes and dropped her head back down.  
  
"And yet, because I've changed, because I've allowed myself to dissimulate, to stand with one foot in the line of fighters, and one foot in the line with their wives and daughters, directly in the middle, not just in the line with the guys facing the girls, actually straddling the border between fighter and female, I'm scorned. I'm chastised. Turned away-put down. I've done what Bra would never dare do, Marron either. They were the smart ones, they knew from the get-go that if you fought, you were a guy or a guy in spirit for the rest of your life."  
  
"That's not true-"  
  
"Vegeta used to respect me, but obviously not anymore. Bulma doesn't know what to do with me, but she wants me to bear her grandchildren. Bra is dizzy with happiness that I'll willingly go shopping now, but still scared as to how drastic my four year transformation was. My father is falling over himself with wonder, my uncle-I haven't even seen Uncle Goten since he and my parents picked me up. Yamcha sees me as freshmeat, nevermind the fact that he finally settled down and that I can very easily kick his ass. Even Krillin doesn't get it-for some reason, he won't let me ~near~ Marron. Tien with his 3 eyes can't look at me with any of them. Puar turns her back to me, Chaotzu will look at me, but find an excuse to leave if I catch him. Piccolo doesn't know what to do with me any better then Bulma...he used to at least ~sound~ like I was more then 'Gohan's kid' to him...now he doesn't even talk to me. You tell me that it's not true."  
  
Trunks lowered his eyes. "But not with-"  
  
"You flat out used me."  
  
He winced, tears building in his eyes. He took off his glasses and set them on the table...glasses that he hated, that he hid behind.  
  
"You know I didn't-"  
  
"I know you didn't mean to, and I don't blame you. I don't hate you. There's no point in hating any of you. It's not your fault, anyone's, that I chose happiness over acceptance and respect."  
  
"Pan-"  
  
She lifted her head and opened her eyes; blank, black, soulless eyes screaming for release stared back at him and he froze. Tears streamed down her cheeks.  
  
"I'm going back to California with summer's end...it'll be easier for me...I have a guy friend out there who I'm close to...who understands enough to accept me...I-"  
  
"Pan, you're not going to go back to-"  
  
She shuddered, her dark and depthless eyes unable to comprehend even the thoughts in her own head. Black tears welled in them, tears black with pain and anguish, not with mascara or anything that she had hidden herself behind.  
  
Tears black with what she had hidden ~inside~.  
  
"I though ~you~ of all people would understand! You hide behind a mask just like I always have-you aren't the bastard you've always been! You of all people should have known I'm not as ignorant and innocent as my ~own~ father! And yet you ~didn't~ understand!"  
  
Trunks gaped at her, mouth partly open, body tense.  
  
"~Did~ you!?" she screamed. Without waiting for a response she clenched her eyes tightly and turned to flee through his office doors, but he jumped from the sturdy oak of his desk, pushing himself forward and grabbing her arm, the arm farthest from him, pulling her tightly to his chest, crushing her against him, stroking her hair and murmuring into her ear.  
  
She fought weakly, trying to shove herself away from him, but then gave up as she understood the words he spoke.  
  
"I'm sorry Panny-you have no idea. I never knew, that smile of yours always destroyed any inkling I had of something being wrong...Please, just...just stay, don't go running out of here like I let you the other night...just stay..."  
  
Her silent struggling grew quiet, and she stayed there, huddled against his chest, black tears streaming quietly down her cheeks, and she listened.  
  
Trunks pulled back, wiping the tears away as they slowed.  
  
"We've been friends a long time, and I'm sorry for not noticing. I know I probably screwed that friendship up more then is repairable a few nights ago. I've apologized for that...now let me apologize for being too caught up in my own demons to notice yours."  
  
She looked up at him as he raised her chin with two fingers, as he wiped tears away with his thumb.  
  
"Let's...let's forget about Friday night," he whispered, his black-blue eyes staring down into her own. "Let's just...just be friends-for these next five days at least."  
  
She drew away from him, shaking her head inaudibly, the thought of being cooped up with him for hours upon hours-alone-too much to bear.  
  
"Pan, just-I know it will be awkward," he pleaded, knowing better then to move towards her, putting his hands in his pockets and glancing at her. He sighed, dropped his head, then raised it to gaze out the window. "It'll be awkward to no end. But it might let us see what we're missing now-what we threw away...or maybe what we never let each other-aside from almost anyone else, see."  
  
"What do you mean?" she whispered hoarsely, black lines down her cheeks, her eyes pooling but not spilling over, her pride back up around her like an iron fortress.  
  
"I mean...I mean let's put the shields away. Let's let each other see who we really are-no pride, no walls. You be the scared little girl you always wanted to be, I'll be who I would rather not be but am. But only here...it'll only be between you, me, and the wall."  
  
She didn't look convinced.  
  
"Trunks..."  
  
"There'll be no personal attacks, no personal affronts. No chastising, nor ridicule. Just us. Just who we've both hidden from the world. For five days only, inside this office. After we clock out on Friday, it'll be over. You can duck back behind your mask, and I mine. And you can go back to California if you want, I won't stop you. We can hate each other then...hate each other for what I'd like to pretend didn't happen. Five days is all I ask."  
  
She blinked her black eyes, didn't answer.  
  
He turned his head to look at her.  
  
"Alright?"  
  
She didn't respond, just dropped her eyes to the ground and leaned back against the wall. He turned and walked to her, lifting her chin with two fingers.  
  
"Alright?...Panny?"  
  
Her black eyes, once blue, gazed into his, and, defeatedly, reluctantly, but not so tiredly, and not sad, almost agreeingly, she nodded her head without a second thought.  
  
***********************  
A/N: Alright, the good news is that I'm back, we've established that. The bed news, you ain't getting anymore if I don't get reviews. So REVIEW ALREADY! ;P  
  
-Panabelle ;P  
www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers  
(note about my page, I have fanfics there that I have no intention of posting here)  



	30. Chapter 29: Awkward?

Disclaimer: My Chibi Trunks action figure is very upset that he and I are sitting at home, at not at the prom...but it's a ~senior~ ball, and I'm only a junior.  
  
A/N: I'm back. Again. It's kinda hard for me to find time to type out my chapters lately, so I apologize ahead of time and a little late for the delay between chapters. Anyways, I've been busy with school, and haven't had time to write. Not to mention that I'm kinda stuck.  
  
That's where reviews come in.  
  
I know I got a few complaints about my "greedy review grubbing hands", and I know that in retrospect, I ~am~ pretty frickin' selfish with the things. But that's because I need help as to where this fic is going. That and reviews motivate me, and I'm a slacker. So I apologize for the "review or no more ficky!" It was pretty bastardous of me. Let me rephrase that: "review or it'll be a while 'fore I figure out where to take this thing!"  
  
Ok, I'm done. Apologies over. Read on and enjoy.  
  
*******************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 29  
  
  
*Awkward my ass.*  
  
She groaned and dropped the heavy stack of papers, reports, and manila folders on the table.  
  
*It'd be awkward alright, if he weren't too busy keeping me out of his sight.*  
  
Grinding her teeth, she cracked her knuckles, closing her eyes angrily, then opening them again and forcefully sorting through the pile, papers to the left, reports to the right, everything else in the middle.  
  
She could feel his eyes on her back, as if he were debating over whether to kill her or not.  
  
*Only 11:36 in the morning, nothing accomplished, and he has done nothing but stomp on my pride. Yeah, like I really wanted to agree to that damned "we'll both be who we really are" bullshit that he "proposed" earlier...proposed my ass, he shoved it down my throat!*  
  
Furious, she slammed a 268 page report onto the table, making the floor shudder.  
  
"We'll just be us. Just who we've both hidden from the world, Panny. We don't have to pretend anymore!" she mimicked quietly, nose wrinkled, eyes narrowed, her voice high and surreally enthusiastic.  
  
She slammed another report onto the table. The table split down the middle upon contact, papers flying into the air, falling around her like rain. She reached out a hand to swipe at the papers, only to slice open the palm of her hand.  
  
"Shit!" she cursed silently, eyes tearing from the sharp and annoying stinging, from the lack-luster and humiliating day she'd already experienced. Grinding her teeth, she clenched her fist, careful to keep her nails from her skin.  
  
She stumbled backwards blindly, only to freeze as strong hands lighted on her shoulders.  
  
"Pan, let me see."  
  
She jerked away from him like a child would, stubbornly holding her hand away from him, forcing back the annoying waves of burning that shot up through her hand, intending to head to the ladies' room and stop the bleeding.  
  
She heard him sigh half a heartbeat before an arm snaked itself around her stomach, pulling her back against a very hard, very warm, very comfortable chest that rose and fell gently and rhythmically. His other arm found her own; strong and gentle fingers firmly grasped her wrist, squeezing, forcing open her fist.  
  
"Trunks, I am perfectly capable of-"  
  
His hand forced hers around, turning her palm towards them, and she felt his breath catch. She tried to force her fingers closed, but his voice was in her ear. His thumb pushed her fingers back.  
  
"I still don't know if I should worry or feel guilty about the fact that these haven't healed yet." His voice was low in timbre, his thumb gracing over the four half-healed crescent-shaped wounds on the palm of her hand.  
  
Pan ground her teeth, jerking away from him. Using her ki, she shoved the whole mess of papers and reports into an unstable pile, grabbed it, and stormed out of the office and down the hall.  
  
She'd had just about enough of him for one lifetime. All morning-"here, let me help you with that," "Pan, are you sure you're ok with this?" "Pan, could you-"  
  
"~Argh!~"  
  
With a cry of exasperation, she tripped over a worker and tumbled forward into the Xerox machine.  
  
The worker scuttled quickly away, blinding running into others, unable to see through blond bangs. She'd heard cries like that from the company president, and knew better then to stick around.  
  
"Sorry!" she cried as she retreated in a hasty getaway.  
  
Pan lay on her stomach, unmoving atop a crushed mountain of papers now soiled with blood. Her nose was pointed towards the Xerox machine, her arms outstretched toward it as if she were bowing to an honorable lord.  
  
"Pan?" she heard Trunks say as he came into the room. "Pan, I'm taking my lunch brea- ~umph!~"  
  
Pan sniggered as Trunks toppled over her legs and thundered to the ground, twisting in midair so that he landed on his rear, one leg draped over her hips and lower back, the other propped up on either side of her now extended legs.  
  
"Pan?" he groaned, propping himself up on his elbows, looking at her to make sure she wasn't hurt.  
  
She rolled over, pushing herself up onto her hands, blushing as she saw how his bangs had skittered akimbo across his face.  
  
*Damn...he looks so hot when he's the biggest bastard on Earth. I guess that's what comes when you're literally the spawn of evil.*  
  
"Pan?"  
  
She giggled, dismissing her thoughts.  
  
"So you've fallen for me! Now I get it!"  
  
Trunks looked at her blankly before the joke registered. His eyes closed and he laughed, his voice and face belying his thirteen year head start on life.  
  
"Well, it's kinda hard not to with legs like yours!"  
  
She glowered at the rebuttal.  
  
Swiftly and deadly, her hand rose and glissed across his side. He shifted away, tackling her, tickling her.  
  
Employees looked on with curious and envious gazes as they passed, watching the young company president and his new assistant struggle, he straddling her waist, she on her stomach trying to crawl away through the laughter.  
  
Trunks leaned down, catching her arms, whispering thickly into her ear, trying to subdue his laughter as she squirmed beneath him, her sides heaving with honest-to-Dende laughter. "Think you're ready to get to work yet, Miss Son? Or do I have to beat you into submission?" His voice was low again, sultry and playful, almost with a hint of pleading. Without awaiting an answer, her stood, leaving her prostrate before the copy machine as he gathered her scattered paperwork.  
  
Pan grinned, looking up at the machine before her.  
  
*Awkward my ass! This'll be a blast!!!*  
  
*************************  
A/N: So am I forgiven about the review thingie? I hope so. Anywayz, I hope you enjoyed this. Do me a favor and review. I need input on how to cover the next five days for Trunks and Pan.  
  
Thankz.  
  
-Panabelle ;P  
www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers  



	31. Chapter 30: Temptation

Disclaimer: Chibi! Get away from there! That's not yours! Right now, you don't-*sound of rockets going of in the back ground*-Great. Now you've done it. You've gone and blown up-oh! Hi! Um...nothing happened. I swear. He does too. *muttering* Don't you? *grumbling* Nothing happened....*grumble grumble grumble*  
  
A/N: What in the name of all things sacred? Could it be? Yes! It is! It's another chapter! *Angels sing in background* I've been motivated this weekend. First ~All I've Ever Wanted~, now a new chapter...I'm spoiling you guys. I really am. ;P Anyways, yeah. Just figured I'd get this out while I had time. Read on, enjoy, and review. The more reviews, the less time between updates. ;P  
  
**************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 30  
  
  
Grinding her teeth, she wound the medical tape around her wrist, wrapping it up and across her palm, between her thumb and index finger. She drew it along the back of her hand, around to the palm, across and to the back again, this time under her thumb, and around her wrist again, repeating the process with slow and mechanical movements; covering the wounds on her palm as easily as braiding hair.  
  
She quickly and skillfully tied the ends together, tucking them flat under the layers across her wrist. Replacing the extra tape in the first aid kit on the counter, she finally let a shiver run through her.  
  
She tried not to notice the blood seeping through to turn the stark white wrapping a sick rust color. The last thing she wanted was to think about the wounds on her palm.  
  
"Hello, Miss Son," said a worker in parting as she dried her hands. Pan didn't miss the sarcastic enthusiasm and inane jealousy that filled the girl's voice, even over the hand dryer. She pretended she did.  
  
"Hello."  
  
Pan watched her leave, shaking loose droplets from her hands. She waited for the door to click closed behind her; the moment the girl was gone, Pan slumped forward onto the counter, gripping at her hair with her hands, clutching it in bunches by her temples.  
  
She was so utterly confused.  
  
If her father knew what had happened-any little part of what had happened-that night...if Gohan knew the real reason he had taken her to bed...Pan didn't want to know what he'd do. It wouldn't be pleasant, that would be for sure. Vegeta was already facing death-by-angry Gohan for saying all that he had. Trunks was seriously in over his head as it was. If Gohan knew what she did, Trunks would be planning his own funeral.  
  
Pan dropped her hair back around her face, rubbing her forehead and eyes.  
  
She didn't want to see Trunks die, hell, she didn't want to see him get hurt. Though part of her hated him for what he'd done, and an even greater part of her wanted his head on a stick for what he ~hadn't~ done, he was still her best friend. He was still Trunks, still that purple-headed hottie that she had lusted after throughout high school. He was still her responsibility to protect from her father.  
  
Blowing recently feathered bangs out of her eyes, Pan pushed herself back up, rubbing at her face, dropping her hands to lay flat on the countertop, looking upward and straightening her body into a slightly backwards arch. She stood there for a moment, on tiptoe, chest pushed forward, back arched in, hands flat, arms rigid and elbows locked slightly in front of her as she pushed herself upwards.  
  
Trunks was off on his lunch break. She'd assured him that she wasn't hungry, not really, and he'd immediately pinned it for what it was.  
  
She was still upset over his father's words.  
  
*Fighter bitch in heat...*  
  
She rolled her shoulders forward and dropped her head. Damn him. Did he really think that just because he was the prince of a nearly extinct race, he had the right to be a bastard?  
  
She shook her head, unable to meet her eyes in the mirror before her. She turned on the tap, cupping her right hand under the cool stream, catching the water. She gazed into the small pool that formed in her palm, gazing through the clear water to the practically healed wounds. Shaking her head, she ducked, splashing the water onto her face, washing away the lingering black lines from her tears, hoping to wash away the weariness, trying uselessly to wash away the fever.  
  
Drying her face and hand, she gathered the first aid kit and moved back into the hall after finger brushing her hair into place.  
  
Trunks was down at the end of the hall, a plastic bag full of greasy cheeseburgers and even greasier french fries dangling in his hand, talking to one of the female workers.  
  
~"It's not permanent....no, Ms. Haruna will be returning....she's a good friend....Shouldn't you be working and not socializing?....heh heh...yes, well..."~  
  
She ignored his voice and simply walked down the hall, wishing she didn't have to hear or witness his flirting with the girl.  
  
"Pan? Pan!"  
  
She froze, caught like a child sneaking from the kitchen with a pocketful of stolen cookies, and turned back, forcing herself to act surprised to find him back-and with food yet!  
  
"Trunks? I thought you went to lunch?"  
  
"I did," he laughed, steering through the sudden wave of employees and snagging her elbow, navigating through the flood of females. "But I just got it to go. I don't care if you're hungry or not, you're eating if I have anything to do with it."  
  
"Make me."  
  
Trunks sniggered, leaning close to her ear, his lips brushing the tender and often sunburned skin.  
  
"Wrong answer," he whispered, his voice as low and as seductive as she had ever heard it. An arm wrapped around her waist and lifted her completely off the ground, holding her against his hip as he pushed his way into the reception area to his office, and then into the office itself. Trying not to laugh, Pan tucked up her feet an let herself dangle, her hands clutching his arm, her head tilted forward to see where they were going.  
  
Still carrying her, he dropped the food in the center of the floor.  
  
"Trunks," she laughed, "put me down. I ~have~ legs, you know."  
  
She didn't get a response, only got herself dropped into Trunks' swivel chair. He disappeared, and returned with the bag after closing the doors.  
  
"You're going to eat."  
  
"Make me."  
  
"Do I have to?"  
  
Pan suddenly realized that now that he had no reason to not wear his mask around her, he was more then likely completely serious.  
  
"Well, no. You can't. We have work to do. I'd put up a fight and we wouldn't get anything done today at all!" she crowed triumphantly, suddenly seeing a way out.  
  
Trunks unwrapped the greasy burger, waving the synthetic beef under her nose, letting her smell the fat, letting her see the pickles and ketchup and mustard. She ground her teeth, trying to keep down the nausea that the thought of eating brought, and trying to fight back the wave of hunger that the sight and smell of over-priced fast food brought.  
  
"I ~will~ make you eat, Panny. If we have to stay until midnight because of it, so be it. I ~will~ get food down your throat no matter what I have to do to get it there."  
  
Pan grumbled, pushing herself flush into the back of the deeply padded black chair, bringing her knees up between them, her hands gripping at the arms of the chair. Trunks noted her reaction, and sat down on his desk, moving the food to his side, turning the chair to face him. He planted his feet on either side of her legs and between the arms of the chair, and drew the chair towards him so that his knees dug into the back of it just below her armpits.  
  
He had her pinned. Reluctantly, she lowered her feet to the floor.  
  
If she tried to get up, all he had to do was rock forward and he'd be sitting on her lap. She couldn't escape by going over the sides, his legs blocked that route. If she tried to shimmy out between his legs and crawl away...well...he'd have no shame in stradling her face. He didn't have to do anything to make that entirely clear.  
  
He'd regret it in the end, and he'd know it, but because she'd be using her teeth, he could claim victory. That and it would only give Vegeta more ammunition to throw at her at Bra's party in the upcoming weekend.  
  
She glared at him.  
  
Trunks grinned, dropping the oily wrapper into the trash receptacle off to the side of the big oak desk.  
  
"Hungry yet?" he asked, waving the burger before her eyes.  
  
She continued to glare at him.  
  
He laughed, leaning closer, his face looming in her vision as he brought it uncomfortably close to hers. Not moving the burger, he took a big bite, chewing with his mouth half open and inches away from her own.  
  
"Yum," he stated, his voice almost emotionless-aside from sarcasm, knashing at the half-chewed meat, speaking skillfully around it. "I don't think I want to share now."  
  
She glared at him as he sat back, eating the rest of the burger, relishing it in front of her. He grabbed another. This burger half gone, he reached into the bag, pulling out a handful of fries, tilting his head back to stuff and fold them into his mouth one at a time.  
  
"You're disgusting."  
  
He looked back down at her, then stuffed his hand back into the bag, and almost sensually yanked it back out, holding a tiny pot of barbeque sauce. He tore the top off with his teeth, leaning forward and dropping it into the garbage can, keeping his burger in one hand, and then set the tiny chamber of meat enhancer next to him.  
  
Pan swallowed thickly, her eyes on the barbeque sauce, but she quickly tore them away to glare at him as he dunked in fries and ate them in the same fashion as the previous handful.  
  
"You know," she stated as he started his third burger, "at this rate, you'll eat it all and I'll win."  
  
Trunks shrugged, talking around an overly large mouthful of food.  
  
"I own the fast food joint this came from. I can have an employee drive more over."  
  
She stubbornly crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at him vindictively.  
  
He grabbed another burger, unwrapped this one more slowly then the others. An aroma of almost-raw meat washed forth from the wrapper. Pan swallowed thickly, eyes glued on the burger as Trunks unwrapped it as if he were taking off his pants. Barbeque sauce dripped from the end into the wrapper, which he held beneath it.  
  
Her stomach growled, angry with her point-making fast, and she cursed it. Trunks didn't miss the rumble. He leaned forward, holding the burger between them almost as an offering, but then leaned down his head and took a bite.  
  
Pan watched as he swallowed, savoring the raw flavor. He knew barbeque sauce and almost-completely raw meat were her weak spots. He smirked as she sat up, dropping her arms to her sides, and then leaned slowly down to take another bite.  
  
Just as his lips pulled back for his teeth to sink into beefy heaven, Pan shot forward, grabbing both sides of the burger, one hand lacing over his, her mouth tearing away the bite he had intended to take. She sat on her heals on the very edge of the chair, her knees pressed against his inner thighs for balance. As her teeth sank into the artifical cow muscle, she became aware of the fact that the side of his mouth was pressed against the side of her own, the end of his nose in the corner of hers, and the end of hers in the corner of his. She blinked, letting her teeth sink completely through and tear away the meat.  
  
Trunks tore away his own bite, and sat back, relinquishing the burger, letting her sit back into the chair like a cat with a kill, watching in wonder and interest as she slowly ate, her eyes darting back to glance at him through the corner of her eye. Chewing slowly and thoughtfully, he wiped his hands on a napkin and brought his legs up under him into a cross-legged position, eating more politely now as he watched her.  
  
"You suck," she growled between bites, her eyes looking back at him, threatening him with her defeat.  
  
"And you bite," he replied, grabbing another burger, only to have it swiped away from his grasp before he could even start to unwrap it. He laughed.  
  
"Hurry up Panny, we've got a ~lot~ of work ahead of us."  
  
*******************  
A/N: We-ell.....? Ok. Yeah. Things'll probably (might...maybe not, ignore me here) go smoother and faster now that I've dug myself out of my little ditch and dragged the story with me. Anywayz, I hope you enjoyed this. I had fun writing it. It's amazing what comes out of one's head at midnight. ;P  
  
On a btb note (by the by), I went and saw A Knight's Tale starring Heath Ledger this evening...VERY good movie. Go see it. ;P  
  
-Panabelle ;P  
www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers  



	32. Chapter 31: Trunks! NO!

Disclaimer: *whine* Do I ~haaaaaave~ to? *whimper whimper* Ok, fine. This ain't mine. Not really. But if anyone steals this, I'll hurt them. There. Happy?  
  
A/N: Thanks for the reviews guys, Panabelle happy now. ;P Apparently, I left many of you under the impression that I was either really hungry when I wrote the last chap, or I'm a vegetable-arian. Response: I need my meat, and I wasn't hungry, it was three in the morning. Nuff said. ;P Anyways, hope this keeps you guys from killing me.  
  
Read, review, and enjoy.  
  
****************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 31  
  
  
Gohan started when the phone rang. Pan had been gone for six hours, and he hadn't heard a word from her. Needless to say he was worried.  
  
"Hello?" he said, trying to keep the anxiety out of his voice.  
  
"Daddy, hi, I-" She cut off into a shriek. "Put it away! Trunks, put-it-away!" she yelled into the background. "Hi, Daddy....I just realized that I hadn't called....Trunks! Don't even ~think~ about touching me with that thing!"  
  
"Pan?"  
  
"Trunks-~Trunks! No!~" Laughing, she returned to the conversation with her father. "Alright, yeah. Sorry Daddy. Yeah, Bulma's got me working as Ms. Haruna's replacement this week, which is why I'm still down here. Anyways, Trunks and I have a lot of work ahead of us, so I'll-~Trunks!~ No! What ~are~ you-insane!?"  
  
Gohan tried to stifle his laughter.  
  
"So-~Trunks! Cool it~, for like, ~five seconds!~"  
  
In the background, Gohan could hear Trunks counting to five.  
  
"So, yeah, I'll probably be home late tonight-I just wanted to let you know 'cause I don't think Bulma call-"  
  
"~Times up~!" Trunks cried in the background.  
  
"~Eeep!~" She laughed and he heard a crash somewhere in the background.  
  
"Pan?" he said, trying to say something in this conversation.  
  
"Eeep! Trunks, knock it off! I'm getting there!"  
  
"~Get there faster!~"  
  
Gohan laughed.  
  
"Ok, Daddy? Trunks is threatening to beat me senseless with an old sock he found under his desk if I don't order food right now. So I've got to go-~oh! Trunks!~"  
  
"~FOOD!~"  
  
"Pan, do you want me to bring you two some dinner?"  
  
"Nah, no thanks Daddy. We've got about 8 extra large pizzas plus five super-deluxe Chinese take-out dinners lined up to call in and or-~der!~" Her sentence cut off into a squawk, and large thumps carried through to his ear as she beat Trunks with the receiver.  
  
"~Let go!~"  
  
"~FOOOOOOOOD!~"  
  
"~Get that thing away from me and we'll compromise! Now-LET GO!~"  
  
"Daddy?"  
  
"Hi Panny."  
  
"Ok...um, yeah, we're pretty brain-dead and I don't think Trunks remembers how to use eating utensils, so we're content with fingerfood-hey, ask Grandma to save me a plate for when I get home. 'K?"  
  
"Alright Pann-"  
  
"Ahh! Didn't I just tell you to not touch me with that! No! No! DON'T TOUCH ME WITH THAT ~THING!~"  
  
"Panny?"  
  
"Yeah Dad."  
  
"If you need anything-~anything~-just-"  
  
"I will Daddy. But I've got to go before I die at the thwap of the smelly sweat sock of nasty death." Gohan laughed. "'Bye Daddy! Don't wait up for me!"  
  
"'Bye-" *click* "-Panny."  
  
Gohan laughed quietly at his daughter's predicament.  
  
Work did funny things to Saiyans.  
  
************************  
A/N: So whaddaya think? Good? Bad? Should I trash this chapter? Are you even going to review? Eh, Maybe, Kinda, No, Not likely? Anyways, this'll be the last chapter for a few days. I'm leaving for Memorial Day weekend-I GET TO GO SEE TOM PETTY AND THE HEARTBREAKERS!!!! YAY ME!!!!!!-and won't be back till Monday, maybe not back online till as late as Weds or Thurs. Ok, that's it.  
  
I hope you enjoyed this. Lemme know what you thought. (Translation: Review por favor.) In the meantime, happy break, I'm going to go idolize my god.  
  
-Panabelle ;P  
www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers  
  
Oh! Something I forgot! I don't know how many ppl will notice this, but I'd like to know if anyone out there is collecting the DBZ cards, Hero series one. If you are, email me, I have a lot of cards I'd like to trade. Thankz!  



	33. Chapter 32: The Sock Puppet of Smelly De...

Disclaimer: The sock is mine. He does not make appearances, he doesn't give interviews. If you try/wish/want to mention him in your own work, he demands your written request, and my written permission. Understand? Good. Oh, and on another note, I don't own Trunks, Pan, or CC.  
  
A/N: In case you missed it, ~THE SOCK PUPPET OF SMELLY DEATH IS MINE!~ Along with the Sweat Sock of Death and the Paper Clip of Nasty Death. Just remember that when you read this. Or the Sock Puppet of Smelly Death will have to come thwap you.  
  
ANYWAYZ, sorry 'bout that, I'm running off the eddies of stress. ;P Well, yeah. The next few chaps will come in spurts...I don't have a lot of time on my hands for anything other then my office job or school. *groans* But, oh well for me. I hope you enjoy this chapter.  
  
Read, enjoy, and review por favor!  
  
****************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 32  
  
  
Pan glared down at Trunks. He had her trapped just under the ceiling in the corner, cradling the phone in her lap while she hovered in the air.  
  
He stood below her, his hand shoved into the sock in sock-puppet style, grinning psychotically, the puppet holding the same evil grin.  
  
"That's the Sock Puppet of Smelly Death," he corrected her, moving his hand to make the sock talk.  
  
"It's been a long day," she muttered, covering half of her face with a hand.  
  
"Order dee fooooooood," Trunks commanded through the sock.  
  
The sock had an accent very much like Dexter off of ~Dexter's Laboratory~.  
  
She looked down at him. He ~looked~ psychotic.  
  
Seeing her gaze was not on the phone, he and the Sock Puppet of Smelly Death looked at each other.  
  
"She is not ordering dee fooooooood," hissed the Sock Puppet of Smelly Death. "Make 'er order dee fooooooood."  
  
Trunks shook his head sadly.  
  
"I don't know how to make her-she doesn't listen to me...and she keeps flying away and beating me with the phone."  
  
"Then maybe chu should let 'er beat sumding el-~ack!~" The Sock Puppet of Smelly Death was prompty cut off as Trunks grabbed it with his other hand and started to strangle it. The Sock Puppet of Smelly Death struggled, sending them both sprawling across the floor-ending with Trunks on his back trying to keep the puppet off of his face.  
  
"Trunks?" Pan asked, scared now, her voice shaking.  
  
The Sock Puppet of Smelly Death whipped his head up to look at her, letting her purple-haired and mashed-potato-brained companion off of the floor, glaring at her with eyes made of 2 hot neon pink pencil top erasers that Trunks had found in his desk.  
  
"Order dee fooooooood," it hissed commandingly. "Now. Before I beat chu."  
  
She stared at him and the sock in utter disbelief, thoroughly scared now, letting it all show on her face and in her eyes.  
  
"Do chu ~dare~ to not take me seriously?!" The Sock Puppet of Smelly Death turned to Trunks. "She dares to not take me seriously." Trunks shrugged as the Sock Puppet of Smelly Death flipped back around to face her. "Order! Now! Before I have to ~stomp~ chu!"  
  
Pan almost fell out of the air laughing.  
  
"Pan, it's not funny, he ~will~ stomp you...believe me, he's kicked my ass more times then anyone else I know."  
  
Pan face faulted, staring at him. "You mean he's not ~new?!~"  
  
Trunks shook his head sadly. He was so serious...there was no way he was making this up. He'd done all of this with a straight face for Dende's sake!  
  
"Trunks! It's only Monday night! What are you going to be like on Friday?!!"  
  
******************  
A/N: So that's it for now, I need to do a little revamping of future chapters. For those of you anxious about Pan and the mystery man, keep yer pants on, I'm getting there. I haven't forgotten about it or anything. I'll get there as soon as I can.  
  
Oh, and before I forget, I have a little poll for you ppls. I would like to know which you ppls prefer:  
  
Marron + Goten or Marron + Uub  
  
I want to know. I would like to know from the really serious Marron + ? fans. Marron + Trunks, I'm sorry, that poll will have to wait. But really. I would like you ppls with an actual opinion on this matter to email me with your preference, and a solid reason as to why (~please~ don't say "They deserve each other!" or any of that crap). Only actual votes with actual reasons why shall be counted. This has to do with a fic of mine, so it shall be to your benefit to email me and tell me which you prefer. Please do not answer that question in a review, I will ignore them. I only want the serious ppls povs (no offense to any of you ppl ;P). If you could do that and get those opinions to me asap, I'll get the next chap out just as quickly. (Yes, I'm bribing you...please take the bribe.)  
  
Anywayz, you know the drill, review please!  
  
-Panabelle ;P  
www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers  
saiyansquirt@hotmail.com ------email me with your opinion on the matter!  



	34. Chapter 33: Office Romance

Disclaimer: I own nothing but a...well, actually. I don't own that. I sold the copy rights to my Chibi Trunks action figure.  
  
A/N: Wow...I'm alive! Whatta concept...but you ppl really can't follow directions, ya know that? I ask for EMAILS with REASONS as to who gets Marron...not who gets Goten. Oh well. At least I'm getting reviews. But that fic won't get written until I get emails about it ppls.  
  
Anyways, read, enjoy, review.  
  
***********************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 33  
  
  
Pan sat in front of the copy machine, looking up at it with adoring eyes.  
  
Suddenly, it beeped, and she jumped, eager and anxious to see what was wrong with her new god and religion.  
  
"Pan?"  
  
She looked down at the control panel. ~Paper tray empty. Gently reload and press start~, commanded her god. Pan dashed across the room to comply to her master's wishes.  
  
"Pan? Are you ok?"  
  
She hurried back to the machine with the bundle of paper, and knelt before the machine, as if offering it the paper as a holy sacrifice.  
  
"Pan?!"  
  
Swiftly and gently, she loaded the paper and started the machine back up. She settled back onto the floor and stroked the hard plastic in front of her. She watched the machine work with tender and affectionate eyes, watching in wonder as it magically made one paper into thousands.  
  
"Pan?" Trunks asked, worried, stepping beside her.  
  
"Shh!" she hissed up at him, angry, and then turned back to the copier, watching it again.  
  
Curious, Trunks picked up a paper from one of the thousands in the pile of copies.  
  
It was just a blank piece of paper. Setting it back down, he looked at the level of the ink, curious if the toner was low.  
  
Nope, toner was normal.  
  
Which meant-  
  
"Pan!? You're coping blank paper!"  
  
"~SHH!~" she hissed again, disturbed in her holy worship of the copier and all its magic.  
  
"Oh boy," Trunks sighed. "Sock Puppets are one thing. Worshiping office equipment means it's time to go home."  
  
Pan smacked his leg, quieting him.  
  
He looked at the display for the request of copies.  
  
~2786.~  
  
Trunks stared at it, then looked down at Pan.  
  
She had shed her jacket soon after they had decided to actually get work done that day, had rolled up her shirtsleeves shortly before the Sock Puppet of Smelly Death had made his nightly appearance and request to be fed. Her hair was still pulled back, but into a careless bun, something that had started as a ponytail, but that her fingers had decided to turn into a bun. Strands of hair fell down from the mess, trailing to her shoulders in graceful locks, her bangs and the recently feathered hairs too short to be pulled back hung around her face and messily over her forehead.  
  
She was adorable.  
  
But she was also on the verge of insane.  
  
Shaking his head, Trunks moved to push the ~cancel~ button, but she leapt at him, biting his arm.  
  
"OW! Son of a-~Pan!~"  
  
She growled at him, and Trunks decided to screw the copier, he'd just take her home now before she sucked him into her psychosis.  
  
"Come on," he said, ducking and throwing her over his shoulder.  
  
"No! My Lord! No! Help me, my Lord!" she cried, reaching in front of her, beseeching the copier to rescue her. He just continued to leave the room.  
  
~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`  
  
Pan blushed as she and Trunks escaped their hell through the lobby doors, waving good-bye to the security guard.  
  
"I wasn't worshiping the copy machine, Trunks."  
  
"'My Lord! No! My Lord, save me! I have served you faithfully! Save me!'" he mimicked, holding his hands to his chest, leaping ahead, his voice high pitched.  
  
"Shut up," she mumbled as he stopped and looked back at her with a look that read "Wanna say that again?"  
  
She crossed her arms over her chest as she walked to catch up with him. He reached into his pants pocket, pulling out a capsule car and opening it, tossing it in front of them.  
  
"I'm not saying that you didn't love the copier, Pan. I'm just saying that you were hopelessly devoted to it."  
  
"Yeah, well," she grumbled, sliding into the passenger seat, "at least I wasn't wrestling with a sock puppet."  
  
Trunks looked at her as he pulled out of the parking lot.  
  
"I wasn't wrestling with Smelly, I was trying to keep him from breathing on me."  
  
Pan took her head into her hands.  
  
"Hey, you try and tell him that he has to find his own dinner! I tried that two years ago, and he kicked my ass!"  
  
Pan stared at him.  
  
"You mean to tell me that you've had that sock under your desk for over two years."  
  
"More like three years."  
  
"Trunks!"  
  
"He's actually quite intelligent for conversation once he's fed."  
  
"You ~talk~ to him?!"  
  
He nodded. "It's lonely at work once everyone else has gone home."  
  
"So you talk to a sock."  
  
"Sock puppet. He gets offended if you just call him a sock."  
  
"Trunks!"  
  
"But I draw the line at worshiping office equipment."  
  
"Better then a sock!"  
  
"I don't worship him, I just feed him."  
  
Pan threw up her hands and laughed, snuggling back into the seat. Trunks stopped at a red light and looked over at her, seeing her shiver. They had forgotten her jacket, and he wasn't about to put the top up-the steady wind whipping his hair as he drove was the only thing keeping him from falling asleep.  
  
He ducked out of his jacket, dropping it on her head.  
  
"Here Panny. Get some sleep...we have to be back at that dreaded office in 8 hours."  
  
"Make me," she mumbled, curling up in the seat, huddling under the jacket.  
  
He looked down at her, pulling the collar over her face.  
  
"Don't worry Pan, I'll pick you up on my way there in the morning.  
  
She pulled her face above the collar and glared up at him. "You wouldn't."  
  
"Would you ~not~ if you had ~my~ mother? Hell, if she had her way, you'd be sleeping in one of the guestrooms all this week, but because of my bastard father, she's not dumb enough to try and have her way. And I'm not about to let her."  
  
Pan shook her head, sticking her nose under the jacket collar and falling asleep.  
  
Trunks looked down at her, as he drove. This was how he had intended to take her home that night they'd gone out. To have fun all night, catch up and be insane together, and then have a nice peaceful drive home.  
  
He reached over, one eye on the road, the other on her, and swept her bangs out of her face, smiling as she brought out a hand and tried to move bangs that were no longer there. The Son house rose into view, and he stopped the car in front of it, getting out and walking around to the other side of the car, opening the door and pulling the jacket off of her.  
  
She drew into a tight ball searching for warmth as the make-shift blanket left her shoulders. Trunks smiled. He didn't have the heart to wake her up. Scooping her into his arms, he felt his heart jump as she snuggled against his chest, one hand grasping his shirt collar, her head lifting to nuzzle his shoulder, her other hand falling across her chest.  
  
Trunks paused, relishing the feeling his heartbeat.  
  
It hadn't been dead after all, just dormant...  
  
"Trunks?" he heard Gohan call behind him. Trunks backed up with Pan in his arms and pushed the door closed with his foot. Starting up the walk, he looked down at the woman in his arms and then back up at her father.  
  
"Please tell me she's just asleep," Gohan begged, opening the door wider so to admit Trunks.  
  
"Yeah...probably dreaming about the copy machine."  
  
Gohan didn't ask, merely shook his head and rubbed his face, sliding his fingers under his glasses, lifting them with his knuckles as his fingers massaged his eyes, and then set them back, using his hand to readjust them.  
  
"We weren't made for office jobs," Gohan laughed. Trunks nodded knowingly.  
  
"Come on," Gohan yawned, starting up the stairs, motioning for the younger half-saiyan to follow with his daughter. "I promised her I wouldn't wait up...I'd rather her think you let yourself in and put her to bed, then that I sat up."  
  
"~Did~ you sit up?"  
  
"Nah," Gohan yawned again. "I just heard the car pull up and figured I'd make it easier on you. If I tried to take her from you, I'd probably drop her."  
  
Trunks laughed quietly as Gohan opened the door to her room, letting the younger half-saiyan pass through.  
  
"I'll be downstairs making some coffee-I want to talk to you for few minutes."  
Trunks nodded.  
  
*************************  
A/N: Gotta love the copy machine. Anyways, yes. Summer is here, and that means that I might be able to update on a normal basis again! Yay! So yeah, review, and email me about those votes.  
  
-Panabelle ;P  
www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers  



	35. Chapter 34: Daughter

Disclaimer: I own only the memory...MEM'RY, NOT A SOUND FROM THE PAVEMENT....not that memory, Goku. Oh, yeah, I also own a Goku action figure...Chibi Trunks thinks I replaced him.  
  
A/N: As the disclaimer says, I now own a Goku action figure. My Chibi Trunks action figure is kinda sore over the whole thing. He thinks he's been replaced by a better fighter. But nope, I was just trying to get him some company for when I'm not home!  
  
And I hate to sound condescending or rude or mean or whatever, but none of you can follow directions. Is it really that hard? "Send me an *~EMAIL~* about whether Marron should be paired with Goten, or Uub. Send an *~ACTUAL REASON~* as to why they belong together. *~DO NOT LEAVE IT IN A REVIEW~*. Is it really that hard?  
  
Anyways, sorry about that. On with the fic.  
  
Read, review, but be sure to enjoy. ;P  
  
*******************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 34  
  
  
The gentle purr of a car brought him out of his reverie.  
  
Gohan blinked, lifting his head from where it'd settled onto his chest. His eyes strained against his desk lamp as he readjusted his glasses from where they'd fallen lopsided on his nose when he'd dozed off.  
  
He'd told Panny that he wouldn't wait up for her-like he always told her; and like he always had, he'd found an excuse to stay up. Last time, it'd been to read the paper, though in reality, it'd been to make sure that that purple-headed bastard hadn't tried to kiss her goodnight. This time though, he hadn't even thought to worry about his little girl like that. He knew that something had happened, even though neither acted like anything had, and for sure, neither would ever tell him.  
  
Like he'd drag it out of either of them.  
  
He trusted Panny completely, knew that she knew what she was capable of handling, although her little display the other night had been more then enough to prove to him that she was in way over her head. But she'd come to him when she needed him, she always had.  
  
As for Trunks, well, that boy was a different matter.  
  
Maybe Gohan could at least ask him what she'd meant...  
  
He shook his head, not all too sure that it was such a wise decision, but knew that if he let Panny take care of it herself, she wouldn't be mad enough to disown herself.  
  
He looked back down at the photo album as he heard the engine idling outside his house cut.  
  
*~*  
A car door slammed.  
  
"See ya, Trunks!" he heard Goten yell. The engine revved again.  
  
"Bye!" came the high-pitched giggle of his little girl. Gohan smiled to himself, knowing that his 6 year old daughter had probably just had the time of her life while he was in here trying to finish this research project for the local university so that he could be downstairs for her birthday dinner.  
  
The front door opened.  
  
"See ya, Goten." The engine revved again, much to the delight of Pan.  
  
*Damn that boy loves his car.*  
  
"Oh, and Panny," Trunks called, letting the engine idle. The little girl could be heard to giggle, and Gohan didn't need to be downstairs to see her eyes light up. Six years old to the day, and he already knew she'd be in love with that boy for a long time.  
  
"Yeah?" his sensitive saiyan hearing picked up, wonder and shyness lacing through her innocent voice, and though he wasn't happy with how much she was growing up without him, Gohan had to smile.  
  
"Thanks for allowing me to take you out today, maybe next time, we can sneak away with having Goten chaperoning."  
  
Gohan laughed quietly to himself, turning another page in his book, wishing he could be downstairs to watch her giggle and blush beyond all reason.  
  
After a few more minutes, he could hear the car race away.  
  
Gohan took his head in both hands, staring down in vain at the book, wishing the answer would just leap out at him, that it would just be jumping up and down screaming "~Here I am! Here I am!!~" Then he would be able to go downstairs and enjoy his daughter's company: carry her on his shoulders, take her for a short ride on Nimbus which ChiChi and Videl finished dinner, and then sit and hold her in his lap while she opened her presents, carry her upstairs and put her to bed with a story and a kiss, tuck her in and turn off the lights, sweep midnight's gift out of her eyes as she slept.  
  
But the answer wasn't there, and no matter how much he racked his brain, he couldn't find it. He'd read the damned thing three times over in the past hour, and if he didn't find the answer in time, he would lose not only his grant, but his job as well.  
  
He could only hope that Panny would understand.  
  
"Grampa!" came the battle cry from downstairs, and he could hear his father stagger back as Pan's tiny form connected with him.  
  
"Hey Panny!"  
  
"Wanna hear what Uncle Goten and Trunks and me did today, huh Grampa? Huh huh huh?!"  
  
"Sure, Panny!"  
  
"We went to the fair, and they bought me ice cream, and, well, Trunks danced with me and Uncle Goten got a picture of it, and, well, one of Trunks's old girlfriends was there, and he told me I was prettier then she ever was, and-and-and-" She cut off, and Gohan could hear her as she jumped down to the floor and started racing up the stairs. "And I'm gonna go tell Daddy!"  
  
Gohan froze, his mind teetering between the answer, and between his daughter's need to tell him about her day.  
  
"Pan!" Videl cried. "Pan, wait a few minutes Honey. Your father's working right now. He'll be out soon to take you flying, just like he promised."  
  
Gohan closed his eyes. He could just see Panny out of the corner of his eye and through the half-closed door to his office. She was standing at the head of the stairs, looking down at the hall to where she could see his hand holding a pencil poised over his notebook, his head hunched over the desk. Her eyes were alive and bright, alive with that light that had shone for him and him only since she'd been born 6 years ago to the day. Her rosy face was dark in the unlit hall, aside from the sliver of light from his green desklap-the one she'd given him last father's day-that had managed to spill through the crack in the door and across her smile and her eyes..  
  
"But it'll just be a minute, Momma! I wanna tell Daddy-"  
  
Gohan tore his mind from his daughter's face, the answer so clear in his mind eye that he could simply write down one word and have the entire equation-from beginning to end. ~But what was the word?!~  
  
"Panny, he'll be out in a minute-"  
  
"Momma!"  
  
Gohan froze, the word half-written on the page. His pencil quivered in his hand. The near-tears cry of his daughter was demanding he leave the room and comfort her. But if he did, he wouldn't get a chance to finish writing, and he'd more then likely forget the answer by the time he finally got back to his office. But she was almost crying.  
  
~Da~  
  
Gohan strained to remember the word. It wouldn't come.  
  
"Momma, Daddy promised he'd be done when Goten and me got back," his daughter whimpered.  
  
Almost against his will, he glanced out of the corner of his eye, seeing his daughter's flat and tear-filled eyes, the quivering lip, the flush across her face.  
  
He couldn't do this-he couldn't remember the word, the answer, couldn't remember what the hell he was doing in this room, locked away from the world when his daughter-one of the two main reasons he lived for-was outside, thinking he hated her.  
  
"I know he promised, but you know as well as I do that he needs to finish this. If he doesn't, he'll lose his job and we won't have any money to buy food and things like that," Videl reasoned with her, quietly.  
  
Gohan ground his teeth, clutching his head, torn between what was right, and what moreso.  
  
*She's only six, she doesn't understand that! How can she understand what losing my job would do to us? How can she understand that money is as important as it is? She's only ~six!~*  
  
"I know, Momma. I just...I just thought he might have been able to keep his promise."  
  
His hands turned into fists, the pencil clutched in his right hand shuddered under the pressure. He glanced back at his notepad, the half written answer.  
  
~Da~  
  
All his mind could come up with was "Daddy".  
  
"You do Panny?"  
  
He clenched his eyes shut again, cursing himself.  
  
"Um hm," Panny mumbled miserably. "I'll go downstairs and wres-tle with Grampa until Daddy's done..."  
  
The pencil shattered.  
  
With a groan, he sat back in the chair, dropping his feet on the edge of his desk, hands behind his head, eyes focused on the ceiling, weighing his choices.  
  
"I'm just...I'm just gonna go tell Daddy I still love him," Panny whispered.  
  
Gohan closed his eyes, moving his hands onto the top of his head, clutching it because he was turning into such a bastard.  
  
He'd promised himself when Panny was born that he'd always be there for her-would never miss a birthday, never miss her smile, be there for her whether she needed him or not, not like his father had missed it for him and Goten.  
  
And in a way he hadn't, right? He was still alive, was still there to assure her whenever she needed him, right? He hadn't abandoned her...right?  
  
Like hell. He was missing her birthday, and had missed probably 10 thousand other days because he was too fucking busy with this damned research-all the research he'd ever done.  
  
His eyes opened in surprise as a small form climbed up into his lap.  
  
Releasing the pressure on his skull, he looked down at the intruder, letting his hands slide back onto the back of his head.  
  
Panny sat on his lap, big eyes shining-though slightly diluted-up at him, so lovingly that he knew that no matter what he ever did, he'd never lose her love and adoration for him.  
  
"I guess I broke my promise again, didn't I?" he asked her, his face and voice layered in guilt.  
  
"I understand, Daddy," she said quietly. And he knew that though she really didn't understand, because he wanted her to, she did. Her head drooped a little, eyes focusing on her hands as she played with the bottom hem of her tee shirt. Her hair fell into her eyes.  
  
Midnight's gift to her was gorgeous, and fell to midback. Videl loved to put it up in pigtails, but today, it'd been left to do what she wanted it to. And she'd left it down. It was slightly knotted and kind of tangled from her wild day, no doubt driving at ludicrous speeds in Trunks's new convertible and from flying in every direction. But just the same, it lay flat against her back, falling over her shoulders, hiding her disappointed face from his view.  
  
"I know you do, Sweetie," Gohan sighed, rubbing her shoulders as he dropped his feet back to the floor, pulling her against his chest. "But I still broke my promise."  
  
"You couldn't control it," she mumbled almost miserably, snuggling against him, clutching his shirt.  
  
Gohan smiled down at her, completely in awe of the knowledge that she possessed that was beyond her years. Even at her age, he couldn't understand why his father was dead and what in the name of Kami Piccolo thought by throwing a six year old into the wilderness to survive.  
  
She remained quiet for a moment.  
  
"Did you have a fun time today?" he asked. She nodded, but didn't elaborate, more then sure that her father had heard her tell her grandfather.  
  
"I would have loved to have seen the look on that one girl's face when she dicovered she'd been replaced by a little beauty like you."  
  
Panny peeked up at him, blushing.  
  
He laughed, pulling her into one of the bear hugs that she loved to get.  
  
She giggled as he turned the hug into a tickle attack, squirming in attempt to get away from his fingers.  
  
Her eyes landed on his notebook as he ceased his attack, her laughter faded away. Head cocked, she looked at his notes, then looked at the book. Curiously, she turned a few pages, seemed to study the pages, then looked back at his notes. She looked back up at him.  
  
"Daddy? Why are you researching Momma?"  
  
Gohan started and leaned past her, pulling the book towards him, his eyes scanning all over the page for what had given his daughter that notion.  
  
"Right here, Daddy," she told him, pointing to a sentence that mentioned the daughter of Satan. "It says 'young Satan pulled off more rescue attempts then her father, the world champion'."  
  
Gohan stared at the sentence, then grabbed his notes.  
  
~Da~  
  
Not "Daddy", "Daughter".  
  
With a cry of glee, he swept his daughter into the air, throwing her every which way until he lost his balance and they tumbled out into the hall.  
  
"Does this mean you're done?" she asked innocently as he squeezed her, her voice straining to get past the pressure on her ribs, but still happy-go-lucky.  
  
Gohan laughed again. "You kept it for me!"  
*~*  
  
Gohan smiled, his finger lingering on the photo of Pan and Trunks at the fair that day, Trunks holding Pan against his chest and shoulder, her little feet caught swinging in the air, their cheeks pressed against each other as they both held an arm out and tangoed towards the camera, both with a serious expression on their face as they both had a red line forming across nose and cheeks as they tried to suppress laughter.  
  
Gohan shook his head and pushed out the chair, readjusting his glasses and stumbling down the stairs as he watched Trunks open the passenger side door through the picture window at the front of the house.  
  
**********************  
A/N: Sorry about my little rant at the top, I just feel like people are leaving nothing but their choice with no reason instead of an actual review just to piss me off.  
  
Well, whaddaya think? I just think I'm a real Gohan softy. ;P  
  
Review por favor.  
  
-Panabelle ;P  
www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers  
  
PS: I have original fiction at this addy: www.angelfire.com/ca7/cathrynsfault/enter.html  



	36. Chapter 35: Sleeping Innocence

Disclaimer: I'm a little teapot, bored and poor. I don't own DBZ, nor does Akira any more.  
  
A/N: Well, it's decided. I'm alive. I survived my ordeal with the needles *shudders at the memory and very thought of the pointy things*, and have had time to come off the Novocain. Which means, one really big, super-duper, extra special, and squeegie-rific update! Woo hoo! Anyways, read, review, and just ignore the whole vote thing I proposed chapters ago, with only 3 standing votes, the polls have closed.  
  
******************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 35  
  
Trunks laid Pan down, gingerly untying her sneakers and setting them on the floor next to her bed. She sighed and rolled over, her hand grasping blindly until it found his. She pulled it with her own under the pillow and sighed again, curling up into her little ball, shivering slightly.  
  
Smiling quietly, Trunks pulled the sheets and quilts over her, then sat on the side of the bed, pushing the hair out of her face.  
  
*She looks so innocent when she's asleep*, he thought to himself, tenderly untwining his fingers from hers under the pillow, careful not to wake her up. She moved her unconscious form up against his back, eager for warmth that her sheets refused to offer just yet.  
  
Trunks succeeded in extracting his hand, then drew his fingers along her jaw. The day had been so perfect-aside from the whole untainted look at her soul...Trunks's fingers stalled near the corner of her mouth. He watched her sleeping face, her innocence. She had to be one of the most innocent people on the planet. Her taking Nimbus out for joyrides in high school was proof enough of that. And he was scum when compared to her.  
  
Her eyelids began to flutter, and he drew his fingers away, tracing the line of her jaw once more as he leaned back against her headboard. She snuggled closer up against him, shivering.  
  
Scum.  
  
Granted his family wasn't the purest in the world, of course, the Son's claimed that title the instant Goku had fallen into that canyon and hit his head. Trunks's family was like something you might see on the "Manson family Christmas special", with Vegeta starring as Charles Manson himself. Trunks gave his family the credit of always being there in a pinch, and for always being there for each other no matter the circumstances, but he just had to say that his mother and father had not been prepared to have a son when they had, and had had no idea of what they were doing when raising him.  
  
Trunks sighed.  
  
Pan was an only child born in wedlock. He was the only bastard born ~out~ of wedlock while his sister was born in it. Even at five years old, Trunks hadn't been able to ride Nimbus-not just because Vegeta wouldn't let him, but because he just didn't have the heart...he was just too evil inside.  
  
Not to mention that he had used Pan; had told her a vicious lie and taken advantage of her reaction. It didn't take much to figure out why Vegeta was under the assumption that she was in heat and wanted in his pants.  
  
Not like Saiyans went into heat or anything.  
  
He sighed again, his fingers pushing Pan's hair away from her eyes as his eyelids dropped dangerously low over his own eyes.  
  
Yawning, he slowly stood up and guided her to the center of the bed.  
  
"Night, Panny," he whispered, moving towards the door.  
  
"Night Trunks," she mumbled sleepily.  
  
~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`  
  
Downstairs, Gohan leaned back against the counter, nursing a cup of coffee, his eyes sleepy behind his glasses. Trunks collapsed in one of the chairs at the table and slumped down, thankfully taking the offered coffee and beginning to nurse it.  
  
"Trunks, I have a question for you."  
  
Trunks pulled off his own glasses, pushing them up onto the top of his head, his eyes barely able to stay open.  
  
"Shoot," he mumbled, taking a small sip of black death.  
  
"Pan hasn't told me anything about what happened-well, she did, but not everything. She's leaving out one very crucial bit of information. But what I want to know about why she and Vegeta squared off like that. I'm not even about to try and get it out of him, and Bulma just gets oddly quiet whenever I try to ask her-the fact that I was completely unable to reach her yesterday is disconcerting, and today, she just kept saying 'That is classified information, I'm sorry, Gohan.'" He looked at the younger man, watching him struggle to keep his eyes open and set the coffee on the table. "Do you know why she and your father had it out like that?"  
  
Trunks nodded, spinning the half full coffee cup with his fingers, trying to move, simply so that he didn't fall asleep.  
  
"Do you mind telling me?"  
  
Trunks yawned, seemingly relaxed, but the question brought a hard and troubled sheen over his eyes. "What'd she tell you? I don't want to inadvertently tell you what she hasn't and get in trouble with her...I'll give you the gist of everything she didn't explain though," he added reluctantly  
  
Gohan nodded, understanding, acutely and fatherly aware of the fact that Trunks was the root of all problems. "Well...she was awake by the time I got her home from the party. Videl was still driving home....I took her up to her room and got her in bed, and she woke up. She was crying-I've never seen her that shattered in all her life...I know she's my little girl and all, but sometimes she's just too strong for her own good on the outside, and she neglects to strengthen what's on the inside..." Gohan trailed off, shaking his head, getting himself back on track.  
  
"Anyways, I asked her what was wrong, and she told me that something had happened between the two of you. She wouldn't tell me what, would just say 'something' and leave it at that. She didn't want to be alone, so I sat with her all night, thinking she might want to talk later, but if she did, I was asleep at the time." He looked back down at Trunks. "Do you know what threw Vegeta over to get him to belittle her like that?"  
  
Trunks didn't reply, just kept his head on the table top, resting peacefully in the crook of his elbow.  
  
"Trunks?"  
  
Gohan pushed himself away from the counter and touched the boy's shoulder. Trunks just moved his head, his glasses clattering to the table top, clinking against the coffee cup. His eyes were closed, his face serene.  
  
*Wouldn't know he's Vegeta's son, to look at him when he's asleep*, Gohan thought, shaking his head and reaching for the phone. *Looks so damn innocent it's scary...probably has something to do with how much time he spent with Goten when they were younger...probably rubbed off on each other over the years*.  
  
Dialing, he yawned, setting Trunks's half-finished coffee in the sink, pouring out the dregs and rinsing out the cup.  
  
Might as well tell Bulma that her son would be sleeping on his kitchen table tonight.  
  
******************  
A/N: So, am I torturing you guys enough? Or are you finally starting to put it all together? Well, review before you head off to the next chapter, k?  
  
-Panabelle ;P  
www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers  



	37. Chapter 36: Early Bird Gets the Worm

Disclaimer: Mmmpphh, mrrth, mphh wrr wrr ewrwh. *throat clears* Ahem. Let me, Chibi Trunks, translate for Goku...he's too busy eating. Ok. "Panabelle doesn't own DBZ. She owns us." Got it?  
  
A/N: I just love my action figures. Goku and Chibi Trunks are finally getting along! And it only took a pint of chocolate frosting to convince Chibi that I wasn't replacing him ;P Anyways, on with the other half to the really big, super-duper, extra special, and squeegie-rific update!  
  
You know the drill: Read, enjoy, review! And remember, smiles are free at McDonald's.  
  
***************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 36  
  
Pan yawned as she tromped downstairs.  
  
Hair hanging around her face, shirt half unbuttoned, and belly showing, she tossed a pair of socks on the couch as she passed.  
  
"Daddy?"  
  
"Yeah Panny," he called from the kitchen. Buttoning her shirt and following the scent of strong coffee and burnt pancakes, she shuffled into the kitchen.  
  
She jumped back upon seeing Trunks sleeping at the table, his nose burrowed into the crook of his elbow, glasses falling off the top of his head-the legs sticking up in the air, one of them right through his bangs, one lens rim on the table, the other balanced precariously on his forearm. With his hair scattered over most of the visible portion of his face, the ends of his bangs splaying over his shirt sleeve, he looked very much a little boy who'd fallen asleep out of boredom during a family conference.  
  
She looked up at Gohan.  
  
"Daddy, you were awake when I got home last night," she accused, yawning, looking down to try and figure out why she was short a button...ah...the third button up was in the hole for the fourth button up...that was the problem. Quickly, she rebuttoned the lavender blouse correctly.  
  
"~You~ weren't," Gohan mumbled, setting down the coffee pot, his eyes sleepy behind his glasses.  
  
"Daddy, I told you not to wait up for me," she scolded.  
  
He shrugged, picking up the cup he had just filled. "I wasn't. I woke up when I heard the car pull up." He crossed the kitchen and handed her a cup of coffee nearly cream colored from milk and sugar. Curling up her nose, she downed it, gagging, and staggered to the sink, still too exhausted for coffee.  
  
"Still don't like coffee, I see," Trunks mumbled into his arm, eyes (barely visible over the wrinkled fabric of his shirt) squinting in the dim light of the kitchen.  
  
She looked back and him, and yanked open the curtains.  
  
Trunks shoved his face back into the crook of his elbow, whining. Gohan groaned and leaned back against the counter, shielding his eyes from the sun. Pan squinted, but made sure she kept her back to the window.  
  
"Solar flare," she grumbled half-heartedly, still mostly asleep, dropping down into one of the kitchen chairs.  
  
Gohan chuckled. Trunks shook his finger at where he figured she'd be.  
  
"Nice lively bunch we are this morning," Gohan observed, turning back to the griddle and flipping the now-burned-completely pancakes onto a plate. Blushing, he set the plate between the two younger semi-saiyans at the table.  
  
Raising his head, his glasses clattering loudly to the tabletop, Trunks blinked through blurry vision and noticed something about Pan that he never thought he'd have the chance to see, without prompting from other females.  
  
Like his sister.  
  
"You're wearing make-up?" he murmured, reaching groggily for his spectacles.  
  
Pan reached across the table and snatched them from him, placing them on her own nose.  
  
She crossed her eyes behind them with a funny look on her face, then shrugged and grabbed a pancake, moving out of the kitchen.  
  
"I have to look good for my copy machine," she called over her shoulder, mumbling around her pancake.  
  
Chuckling, ignoring Gohan's confused and worried face fault, Trunks just watched her, his frame still hunched over the table, balanced on his elbows and forearms. He shook his head.  
  
"She still has my glasses."  
  
Gohan shook his head in turn.  
  
"She has a thing for glasses...I don't think she understands why I wear them-I don't need them, and the look on her face when she put yours on was more bewildered then when she wears mine. More proof that you and I don't wear them for prescription."  
  
Trunks nodded, half-smiling, then hesitated and looked to Gohan, sitting back and grabbing a pancake.  
  
"Then why ~do~ we wear them, Gohan?"  
  
Gohan looked back at him, then lifted his head to look through the kitchen door after his daughter, holding his coffee cup in front of his chest, the other hand shoved into the pocket of his pajama bottoms.  
  
"Good question."  
  
Pan trudged back into the kitchen, Trunks glasses big on her small face, a white man's dress shirt and a blue tie in her hand. She held them out to him. "You reek from that damned sock."  
  
"Sock puppet."  
  
She rolled her eyes behind his glasses. "They're Uncle Goten's...you can change in the bathroom." He got up with a groan, and swiped at his glasses, but she ducked his hand and grabbed another pancake.  
  
Shaking his head, he plodded out of the room.  
  
"Pan," Gohan sighed. "Give the man back his glasses."  
  
Pan looked at her father through the thick rims, and he had to admit that she looked adorable in them, though he'd rather not see his little girl flirt with Trunks through his glasses.  
  
"Why, Daddy? He doesn't need them, they're as useless as yours-they're just glasses, no lenses, just glass. Literally-~glass~es."  
  
Gohan shook his head, and poured a little more batter on the griddle, turning to look at his daughter out of the corner of his eye. She instantly came awake, ducking under his arm to get to the coffee pot.  
  
When she'd been in high school, it'd been tradition for father and daughter to make a small breakfast for ChiChi to have in bed, and to clean the kitchen before they'd leave, Pan for Orange Star High School, Gohan for work.  
  
And for one morning, tradition would live on.  
  
While Gohan burned nearly everything he cooked, and Pan took forever to cook a decent meal, when they combined forces, they could at least pull off a decent pot of coffee, pancakes worth eating, and a mean fruit salad.  
  
Trunks reentered the kitchen to find father and daughter awake and lively, Pan wearing his glasses on her head like a head band, stirring cream into a cup of not-so-black death, Gohan setting a plate with lightly buttered pancakes on a tray with a small glass of orange juice, a small bowl of cut up and miscellaneous fruit, and a small vase with a small purple daisy-ish looking thing in it.  
  
"Wha'd I miss?"  
  
Pan just shook her head and ducked out of his reach as he tried to swipe at his glasses again.  
  
"Nothing, just making breakfast for Grandma." Pan slipped past him and grabbed her socks off the couch, snagging a pair of shoes from by the front door.  
  
"Hey, Daddy?" she asked, hopping on one foot and pulling on a sock.  
  
"Yes Panny?"  
  
"You're taking that to Grandma, right? We've got to get."  
  
Gohan nodded, watching as Trunks made another swing for his glasses as Pan merely hopped away.  
  
"Pan, come on, ~please~."  
  
She ignored him and finished putting on her shoes, dropping her pant legs over them.  
  
"Nope, don't count on it. C'mon, let's go."  
  
Gohan had already started up the stairs, tray in hand, but paused and turned around to watch his little girl and her boss-slash-best friend leave.  
  
Pan got the front door opened and had just started through (ducking Trunks every so often just in the nick of time), when Trunks grabbed her roughly around the waist, spinning her to disorientate her.  
  
Pan stood in place, shaken and discombobulated, crouched, hands raised uselessly to her sides, eyes darting back and forth, for a few moments. She reached to the top of her head, patting for the stolen spectacles, and touched only hair. Reaching back to close the door, she turned and saw Trunks walking away, hands in pockets, glasses back on his face as if nothing had happened.  
  
*****************  
A/N: So did you like the really big, super-duper, extra special, and squeegie-rific update? I hope you did. I enjoyed it myself! Well, yes. Now that the novocain has worn off, and I've recovered from the terrifying experience involving a dentist, multiple needles, and mental scarring, I can start writing again. And the winner of that little poll thingy was "Marron and Goten". Don't complain, I had one for Marron and Uub that followed directions, and two for Marron and Goten that followed directions. If you don't like it, don't complain. If I hear any complaints about it, you have no right-you should have followed directions ;P Thanks for playing!  
  
Come on, ppl, review!  
  
-Panabelle ;P  
www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers  



	38. Chapter 37: Shattered

  


Disclaimer: I own nothing. My fears _were_ rational. Goku ate my house. Chibi Trunks barely managed to get me out alive before I turned into Pan de Muerto.

A/N: Hey. I'm alive. And very bored...I'm alternatetly writing this and talking to other fic writers...they can tell you how delirious I have become. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter...I spent a few hours, came up with seven pages (this will be the longest chapter to date) , and have finally decided I'm going to code this bad boy. 

Enjoy...but be sure to review.

**************************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 37

  


Pan sighed as she settled back into the lush leather that smelled of Trunks. 

He'd gone home for lunch, saying that he was in need of a shower and that he wanted to make sure that his mother wasn't worried about his whereabouts the night before. He'd been gone barely half an hour before he was back in the office, telling her to get downstairs and get her ass in his car, they were going out for lunch. 

He'd humored her and let her put a sign on his office door reading "Out to Lunch. Back When Sanity Returns". 

She shrugged her shoulders, twisting around and slipping her hand between folds of leather, letting his scent wash over her, drawing her legs up and letting the sun warm her through her black slacks and black silk blouse. She'd already piled her hair on the top of her head in a hap hazardous bun that seemed to think it was a pony tail, and the back of her neck tingled at the warm and affectionate touch. 

"Panny," Trunks whispered, brushing a lock of midnight's homespun silk from her eyes, his fingers lingering on her pale cheek. "Panny, wake up." 

Her eyes fluttered open, a violet sheen shimmering on her eyelids. Her lips curled into a slight and quiet smile, staying closed, but still genuine. 

"What took you so long?" she murmured sweetly as his fingers drew away. 

Trunks shrugged and opened the door, plopping down next to her in the driver's seat. "They couldn't get the order right. That and the girl behind the counter was determined to get me to take her out to dinner this upcoming Saturday night." 

Pan shook her head, ignoring the weight in her chest as she sat up in the passenger seat, settling back in the leather upholstery. She chose to try and ignore what he said about the girl by placing her feet where they belonged and stretching her arms above her head as Trunks started the car, her gorgeous mood hindered as the warm and gentle fingers of sunlight glissed across the back of her neck and disappeared as she set her head on the headrest. 

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes as he pulled out of the parking lot, not letting her see the perceptive and hopeful sheen to them. 

"I'll tell you one thing, she was holding the order hostage until I 'agreed'." 

Pan immediately came awake, sitting up and tightening her seatbelt, the wind gently whipping the hair that had escaped the hairband across her eyes. She lifted and hand and moved away a strand with her fingertips. 

"'Agreed'?" she prompted, eyelashes fluttering excitedly at the prospect of Trunks admitting he was manipulative. 

He nodded with a laugh. "Told her that I'd pick her up at 6 pm...however, I don't have her name, don't have her number, don't have her address, and have Bra's party that night, although I did-" 

"Did you get it?" she asked eagerly, eyes wide, heart pounding in her chest, hand frozen near her ear as she held her hair back from the wind whipping around them and the open convertible. 

Trunks nodded happily and patted the pocket of his pant leg. 

"It's all safe and sound, Panny. The order isn't going anywhere. If you'd calm down, you would have heard me try to say that a second ago." 

Pan launched herself at him, her hand sliding quickly into his pocket as she searched for her cylindrical prey. 

"_Pan!_" he cried, the car swerving into the oncoming lane of traffic as she leaned against his side, her hand lovingly stroking her prey upwards to where she could grab hold of it. He pried her out of his pocket, his heartbeat and his ki lowering to safer levels. "There is a time and place for that sort of thing! This is _not_ that time, _nor_ that place!" 

Pan whimpered, her face crushed and disappointed. 

"But Trunks, I don't wanna wait till we get back to the office! I wanna eat _now!_" 

Trunks swallowed, a blush creeping across his nose and cheeks as he smirked at her, the hairs on the back of his neck finally settling. 

"That...wasn't...ex_act_ly what I had in mind..." he mumbled, keeping watch on her out of the corner of his eyes while he pulled into the parking lot. 

Pan's eyes grew to the size of small tea saucers, pupils tiny, mouth dropping slightly open, shoulders slumped in shock. Quickly, she shook it off and swung her hand at the back of his head. 

Trunks ducked at the last second, sliding back into the seat to slam his foot on the brake as he parked, his posterior nearly falling off the seat as he slouched down, head and neck retracting into his shoulders. 

Pan swore as her hand smashed through the windshield.

  
  
  


Trunks sighed, tenderly pulling the glass from the palm of her hand, unable to smile as he watched her face as she squirmed in her place on his desk. It was all bunched up, tears welling up in the corners of her eyes as he used the needle to scrape away the glass. 

"Don't like needles," she whimpered quietly, her foot shaking rapidly, head jerking almost spasmodically but not very noticeably as she squeezed her eyes shut, unable to watch Trunks free a sliver from her hand. 

He laughed silently, his quiet chuckle resounding in the peace of the office. 

"See, if you could have waited to eat for when we got back, I wouldn't have to use a needle to pull glass splinters out of your hand," he chastised gently, his warm, strong fingers pulling the back of her hand up against his chest as he tried to get at a tiny sliver that had lodged itself in muscle. 

"Well, if you weren't a pervert," she started, her retaliation cut off into a gasp as the needle caught the sliver. 

"You alright?" 

She nodded, grasping back her hand, cradling it in her other arm, shying away from the needle he held. 

He sighed, knowing that this was his fault for forgetting about the fact that since she'd broken the barrier two and a half days ago, she'd been underestimating her strength and speed...and that until she actually sparred in super saiyan form, she'd keep herself at her old level of strength, forgetting the agility and speed she'd aquired. 

"I'm sorry, Panny," he mumbled, rubbing her shoulders, dropping his forehead to press against hers. She lowered her face, her eyes dropping. 

_Damn...forgot about that_, he cursed silently. 

Just the same, he hooked two fingers under her chin forcing her to look him in the eyes. 

"At this rate, your hands will never heal," he joked quietly. 

"Not with you around," she agreed, reluctantly giving him back her hand so that he could make sure he'd pulled out all of the glass. As he drew the end of his thumb nail along the ragged edges of the wounds, he was surprised to find her calm and peaceful, just sitting there watching him. 

"Pan?" 

She gave a small half-smile, shrugging her shoulders sheepishly, her eyes probing his face. 

"Pan? What is it?" 

"Why'd you do it Trunks?" she asked quietly, her lips hardly moving, her voice barely above a whisper; so quiet in fact that Trunks had to strain his ears to hear her. 

"Do what?" he choked out, voice thick with guilt that made it all too obvious that he knew exactly what she was talking about. 

"Saturday. Why'd you do it?" Her face remained curious, eyes probing respectively, no hate or anger anywhere in her expression. 

But of course he knew her-he knew she was capable of hiding and harboring that kind of rage until she'd gotten what she wanted out of him. 

He swallowed thickly, focusing all of his attention on her palm, but not really seeing the wounds anymore. His eyes were itching, way in the back where he couldn't reach to itch; they were dry and pained, but numb just the same. 

"Trunks-" 

He shook his head, snapping himself back to attention. He risked a glance at her face, only to see her normally perceptive gaze scared and worried. 

He continued to stare at her hand, thumb absently stroking her palm, continuing the set task of looking for glass. 

"I don't know, Panny." Ashamed, he lowered his head, eyes blocked from her view by his bangs; all that she could see was the lower half of his face and the rims of his glasses. "I just felt like doing it I guess." 

Pan's face shattered from calm to irrational-shock and shame and sorrow scarring her gentle features. Her cheek twitched, right beneath her right eye, her eyes unbelieving. Her eyebrows seemed to point at the corner of her left eye, her mouth drawn up in a smirk-gone-silent scream. 

"Tr...Trunks..." she whispered, rage rearing in her voice; rearing, but not unbridled. 

Trunks sighed. 

"I wasn't myself that day Panny...last weekend, really. At the party, I didn't mean to do that to you. When I asked you to dance, I'd had every intention of doing just that: dancing with you to make up for my stupidity from the previous night...apologize, explain..." He trailed off into a sigh. "I guess it didn't turn out that way at all, did it?" 

He looked up at her, eyes open to her, exposing his soul to her. 

Swallowing, she threw herself into the depths of his eyes.

  


*!~!*!~!*

  


_Listen to yourself...hell, look at yourself ya fucking pansy. Look at what you are and what you've done. The girl has accepted what you did, and yet you still-fuck. Not girl...she's not just a girl. She's Pan. She's not like the others. The others were sluts and whores and only there to be used. Pan is your best friend. _

Not to mention she could kick my ass if she could hear me. 

Sighing, he leaned back against the wall, very Vegeta-esc, arms crossed over his chest, eyes guarded, detached from everyone, even though the party was thrown half in his honor-his honor as unwilling president of Capsule Corps and lap-dog of Bulma: self-serving bitch. 

_Whoa...did I really just think that about my mother?_

Fact of the matter was, yes, he had. He'd been serving his mother's will since before he could remember. Of course when he was younger he could usually twist her projects to work with or towards his own agenda, but now he just didn't see the need or the desire to do so. Ever since Pan had left for college, he'd been doing his own projects on the side, while stuck for life in the limelight of Capsule Corps and as the unwilling recipient of his mother's plans for his future. 

Like he ever had had or ever would have any say in his future. 

There was reason he was nearly 40 and still living at home. 

Blowing a sigh discretely through his nose, he looked around the room with sheer disdain and utter boredom. There was the bitch in the center of the room, dragging Vegeta around like a puppy, showing him off to anyone who'd give her the time of day-and who wouldn't? 

_No...not like a puppy..._Trunks narrowed his eyes, noting the way she held Vegeta's hand, dragging the unwilling saiyan from group to group, hooking her hand through the crook of his arm when they paused, looking at him like an egomaniac looks at a portrait of himself: there is nothing more perfect and it is to be admired and desired by all. 

_Like her son. Just like she's lead me around all my life._

Glaring viciously at the slave driver, curious as to where this hate had suddenly come from but not even bothering to try and figure it out, he tore his gaze from the plight of his father to range around the rest of the room. There was ChiChi, carrying in another platter of food from the kitchen, her shirtsleeves rolled up and her face content from the effort of cooking for a room full of people plus 4 half-saiyans, one full saiyan, and one quarter saiyan. 

_Where is Pan anyways?_

Trunks let his eyes wander the room in search of the raven-haired vixen- 

_Dammit! Girl! Girl! Raven-haired girl-saiyan-legal drinker! Don't think of her like that ya fucking horndog!_

-while letting his mind enjoy the effort ChiChi was making. 

_I wonder why she always insists upon cooking for us now. She'd always let Mom handle parties with a caterer or a professional chef. Lately however, she's been allowing Mom to hire assistants, but she herself has been doing all the cooking. How long now has she been cooking and refusing to let Mom hire someone? Six years? Sev-oh. Yeah. Since Goku died. That's probably...why..._

His train of thought trailed off as his eyes settled on the girl; the latest victim of his heartless actions. 

She was levitating in a corner not far from his own, body poised as if she were hunched slightly forward on a stool. The hair that she'd left on either side of her face cut her face in two from his position; her eyes were downcast and seemed to be studying her hands as she tugged absently on her gloves. 

She looked miserable. 

_Look what you did...bastard._

Sad...even the voices in his head didn't want to be a part of him anymore then he did. 

_I didn't_, he started to argue back, but he gave up before he'd even really tried. He knew damn well what he'd done and he wasn't about to deny it. 

_I'm a bastard. I deserve not having a heartbeat...anyone who could do that to his best friend doesn't deserve to live_. He trailed off for a minute, watching her sit there, then decided that was all he could take. _That's it. Go over there, ya bastard, and make it up to her._

Pushing himself away from the wall, he moved across the room until he was right in front of her. He stood, back seemingly straight (but not really), shoulders rolled back, hands deep in his pockets, waiting to see if she'd acknowledge him. 

It took a minute, but she finally did, lifting her head to look up at him, eyes blank to him, and yet still as happy to see him as she'd always been. 

"Trunks, I-" 

He reached out and took one of her hands. "Panny, come dance with-" his request was cut off by a gasp of pain from his companion. 

_Oh shit-wha'd I do? Wha'd I do?!_

"Panny?" 

She smiled weakly up at him, waving off his concern like she would an irksome fly. "I'm fine, don't worry about it." 

Trunks hesitated, then tried again. 

"Would you like to come dance with me?" 

He could see it in her eyes-she knew better. But just the same, she consented, and they slipped into the writhing mass of fellow dancers; his arm slid around to the back of her waist, cupping her small form almost entirely in the crook of his elbow, his fingers splaying comfortably in the small of her back. Her tiny hand settled flightily yet firmly on his shoulder, the box made by their arms a strong one. He held her other hand in his, his thumb stroking the back of her palm. 

She looked up at him as they waltzed; ChiChi and Bulma having forced them both to take classes when they were younger, the steps came easily and effortlessly-the stance was as mindless as one of battle. 

"Trunks?" she murmured, motioning for him to lead them away from the rest of the mass of dancers. 

He looked down at her, and decided that he didn't want to comply to her wish-he had the feeling she'd kill him if he allowed himself to be secluded with her. 

_Either that or try and kiss her again._

He quickly threw off the thought. 

"Trunks," she grumbled, taking the initiative (from his refusal at her request) to take the lead and take them where she wanted to go. "Trunks, really, you can tell me what's wrong," she pleaded, her voice quiet. 

He looked down at her, and all at once, his shield slammed down, just like it had earlier with his mother. Shaking his head, he couldn't stop the smirk, nor the chuckle that resonated in his throat. 

"Do you know how hard it is to tell the _problem_ what's wrong, Pan?" 

She wrenched herself from their box, his arms, and stared at him, eyes hurt but refusing to back down. 

"How the hell did _I_ bring about _your_ midlife crisis, pretty boy?" she spat out after a moment. 

He shrugged, simply looking down at her. 

_Stupid stupid stupid!_

"If you want to call it a midlife crisis, go ahead, kid. I ain't stoppin' ya." 

Her eyes grew wide, her shoulders stiffened. 

"If I'm just a kid, Trunks, then explain to why last night you-" 

"Brat, get your hand off of my son." 

_Yeah...that worked well. Kick her where it counts...shatter her completely...bastard... _

What the hell is happening to me?

  


*!~!*!~!*

  


"Pan?" 

She blinked rapidly, focusing her attention on his face, her mind reeling from the untainted look into his soul, suddenly aware of what it had been like for him the day before when she'd gone off on him. 

"Wha..." 

"Pan, look-I'm-I'm sorry. I-I didn't meant to...to treat you like that on...on Saturday. I had...and I had just..." 

"Trunks, it's-" 

She drew in a deep gasp as Trunks's thumb caught a sliver he'd missed, dragging the glass shard across the inside of her hand. 

"_Shit_," he swore as silently as he could, jerking away from her, his fist clasped tightly around his thumb. 

The shard dropped unnoticed to the floor. 

"Trunks?" 

He squeezed his eyes shut, tears of pain and shame forcing themselves past his eyelashes. 

Pan nearly giggled at how similar the situation was when compared to yesterday-only with the roles reversed. 

"Trunks; Trunks, come here." 

He ignored her. He seemed to be enjoying himself in his suffering. 

Rolling her eyes, Pan hopped off the desk, and pulled out his chair, knowing that no matter how strong she was, she was still smaller then him, and he wasn't going to let her see his thumb without fight. 

The plight of her own hand forgotten, Pan maneuvered herself in front of Trunks and set her hands on his shoulders, forcing him back into his chair. 

"Trunks, sit down." 

Opening his eyes, he glared at her. 

"I'm fine, Pan. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself," he growled, eyes hot with indignant rage and stumbled pride. 

Pan laughed, grabbing a bandage from the first aid kit and the antiseptic. "I know you are. But you have _always_ liked being babied, don't deny it." 

He opened his mouth to argue, but she turned and settled herself on his lap, leaning back into his chest. His mouth went dry. His struggles ceased as the warmth of her touch spread over him. 

"Damn that's deep," she murmured to herself, holding his hand in her own lap, oblivious of the blood that soaked into her slacks. She drew the thumb of her uninjured hand down the long line left by the shard of glass. "Where's a sensu bean when you need one?" 

Trunks shrugged, and she could feel the movement rush through her. 

"Korin stopped growing them in mass amounts after the whole mess with the blackstar dragonballs was resolved. Said that they were for emergencies only...won't give them out even to my dad anymore..." 

Pan shifted her position, bringing up her legs to rest her feet in the tiny space available on the edge of the chair between his legs, holding his hand against her knees. 

"Panny...I'm...I'm really sorry about...about what I...what I call-" 

She looked over her shoulder and smiled back at him. 

"Trunks, don't beat yourself up over it. I'm obviously not pissed about it anymore, so just calm down. You're as good as you can be with a family like yours-you just have an extremely over-active conscience." 

Trunks blinked, suddenly aware that he might have been talking aloud to himself the night before, that she might not have been as out of it as he had assumed. 

"Pan-" 

"Call me a kid again and we're gonna have words. Until then, Friday's a bitter-sweet nightmare, and Saturday was your father's doing. Ok?" 

Trunks sank back into the seat, relief washing over him like the ocean tide does the sand. Pan went back to tending to his gash.

  


*************************  
A/N: You like? Or are you mad because of the beginning. I think you're probably pissed 'cause I'm answering questions but not really answering them. *shrugs* Oh well. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this, 'cause this is all I've got for right now. More chapters coming later. 

Review por favor.

-Panabelle ;P  
[www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers][1]

   [1]: http:www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers



	39. Chapter 38: Fallen

  


Disclaimer: _Blue moooooon, I saw you standing, aloooooooone...without a dream in my head, without a love of, my oooooooooown..._

A/N: Wow, I'm actually getting back into this writing habit, aren't I? Nifty, ain't it? Well, this is another one of my famously short chapters, but it goes back...you'll understand once you read it. 

You know the drill: read, enjoy, review, go get yourself a cookie. ;P

  


*********************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 38

  
  


With a groan, the soldier fell, defeated, forward onto his desk, causing a pillow-cloud of paperwork to surround his upper body and settle around him like a ring of feathers. In one fist, he sheltered his thumb, still bandaged from his run in with the glass left over from _her_ run in with his windshield earlier that morning. In his other fist, he gripped a dull number 2 pencil, it bandaged with scotch tape from too many terrible moments belonging to its captor. 

His glasses lay forgotten near his keyboard; his lilac hair shielding all but the curve of his cheek and his chin, the corner of the slightly frowning line of his lips as the soldier lay fallen and broken. 

In front of his desk lay an angel, her wings removed by whatever gods had given them to her, leaving her to lay where she had fallen, in the midst of a sea of papers that seem to have become the new carpeting for the office. Her right leg lay stretched out, the top of her foot flush with the ground, toe pointed perfectly; pointing towards the door, pointing towards escape. Her left leg was bent, the hook of her ankle cradled over the back of her right knee. One arm was draped above her, the side of her forearm pressed against the top of her head. The other arm was folded under itself, a bandaged hand and purpling fingers peeking over her left shoulder. Her hair, like the soldier's, had tumbled in her fall from grace, her face hidden beneath locks of liquid darkness, the arch of her jaw and her slightly parted, full lips, all that seemed to have escaped suffocation by the hair that blocked the rest of her features from view. 

Outside the window, stars twinkled faintly in the clear midnight sky; the full moon gave light to the world, providing an innocent sheen to all, an innocence the sun could never see, could never create. 

Odd, that something that can create such horror wrought by those such as the fallen, could bring innocence to the surface, could wash the world clean of all sin. 

Out in the lobby, a brief glimpse of blue shimmered in the moonlight. Tears shimmered on pale, rogued cheeks, a faint smile graced the lovely face. Bright blue eyes, eyes that shielded themselves with pride, eyes that hid what was truly within, sparkled at the scene on the monitor. 

She knew. 

She knew that the fallen angel was the only one that could nurse the fallen soldier back to help; that the fallen soldier was the only one that could lift the fallen angel back into grace. 

Blue eyes lifted, met with black. 

Black eyes, warm with life, warm with love, warm with innocence that rivaled the innocence brought by the moon, shone back. They dropped back to the monitor, and a sigh escaped through his nose, his mouth defeatedly closed, eyes shutting sadly. He pushed himself from the monitor, black hair swaying slightly as the locks were disturbed by the movement. 

He crossed the lobby, walked to the glass double doors, letting the moonlight smiling through them wash away his loss. A large hand pressed itself against the glass, eyes beseeching the moon for answers. 

A gentle hand settled on his shoulder. Black eyes turned to back blue, meeting them, stating dislike and anger. 

Blue eyes closed, blue hair bobbed around her face as she shook her head. 

Sighing again, lips forming a line, face blank, black eyes closed. 

A strong hand crossed his chest; he reached up and gripped hers, admitting he knew. 

The fallen cannot look towards heaven for help. 

They can only look to themselves.

  


************************  
A/N: See what I mean by "it goes back"? It goes back to the feel from the beginning. Anywayz, yeah. That's my update for today. More later...damn it feels good to have gotten over my writer's block. 

Review por favor...me gustan sus opiniones. ;P

-Panabelle ;P  
[www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers][1]

   [1]: http://www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers



	40. Chapter 39: Midnight Flight

  


Disclaimer: I own about 300 dollars worth of merchandice all bought in the last 8 months. I don't have a steady income. If you wish to sue me, I suggest that you think about how much money you've already stolen from my wallet. My Goku wallet that I spent money on to put money in. 

Actually, I don't have a Goku wallet...I didn't have enough money. ;P Anyways, yeah. Sorry I haven't been updating much lately, I've been kinda busy. Just be glad that I haven't kept you hanging nearly as long as I did before my squeegie-rific update of last. 

I get the feeling you guys really enjoy these nameless chapters, the ones where I leave the featured characters up to your imagination. I got a lot of response about the last one, about what a sweet Bulma-Veggiehead moment it was, or Bra and Goten, or Bulma and Gohan, or any other girl-boy combination you can get out of the 2 girls and 3 guys mention above. But my question is, how do you really know who it was? 

Read, enjoy, review, and give yourself a hand.

******************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 39

  


He was calling her name. 

She could feel his fingers sliding along her cheek, sweeping her hair out of her eyes with a tenderness that she could barely remember, and could only consciously compare to her father's. 

Her deep blue-indigo eyes fluttered open, and met his, eyes surprisingly clear and startlingly blue. She smiled at the knowledge that only two days ago, those same eyes were as black as her own. His fingers swept her bangs out of her face, giving her a playful smirk. 

"It's late," he whispered, slipping an arm beneath her shoulders and the other behind her knees, scooping her up as he stood. Her arms instinctively went around his neck. 

"I know," she murmured sleepily, starry-eyed, as he set her feet on the ground, leaving his other hand in the small of her back as he waited for her to steady herself. She pushed herself away from him and stretched. He smiled and walked towards his desk, pulling his blazer from the back of his swivel chair. 

His form moved into silhouette as he moved in front of the wall of glass windows that backed his office. His profile was lined on his right side, glowing in flat, dull, near-colorless shades: the rich navy of his slacks and his blazer, the soft white of his shirt; the pale tan of the side of his face, the near-violet lilac of his hair; leaving the rest of his profile shaded with starless midnight. 

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" he asked, shoving one arm into a sleeve, reaching forward and pressing a button on his desk. 

Behind him, one of the windows slid open, allowing a soft, refreshing breeze to sweep through the office, scattering random papers from their places on the floor and his desk, chasing them around the room. He stuffed his other arm into his blazer, throwing her the jean jacket they'd forgotten last night before she could even respond. 

"You're kidding me." 

He smirked as he walked closer to her, his features returning as he crossed towards her into shadow, caribbean eyes smiling playfully; a face that a bystander might mistake for cruel or vindictive, but that she recognized as teasing and mischievous. 

Recognition sparked in her eyes, igniting a sparkle of life that made her aura glow, her face exploding into a smile that even her grandfather would have been envious of. She shoved her arms into her jacket, getting caught in the process. She threw her left shoulder forward, freeing the denim of its prison beneath itself, and shrugged the jacket into place. 

"Let's go!" 

"Wait." 

She froze in midstride, stopping and turning to look back at him, her eyes quiet and curious. He had to laugh at her; her expression was pricelessly a perfect replica of her father, or her grandfather for that matter, aside from the gentle features she had inherited from her mother. 

He clenched his hand in his pocket and a look of guilt passed over his face. 

"What is it? What's wrong?" 

He looked up at her, then walked two or three steps towards her. He pulled his hand out of his pocket and reached up, tying something to the top of her head. 

"Flying would probably be easier if you could see where you're going." 

Confused, she lifted her hand to the top of her head, and lighted it upon a scrap of material that she hadn't given a second thought to since she'd lost it. A smile touched her lips. 

"I left in it your car, didn't I?" 

He nodded, but didn't say anything as he steered her towards the window. 

"It's been a long time, hasn't it?" she whispered as she stepped out onto the tiny ledge, facing him as he slammed his hand down on the button to close the window and barreled out of the office, slamming into her, catching her as she slipped backwards. Together, they laughed. 

"Yeah, it has been a long time." 

They rose slowly into the air, then took off, heading straight towards the full moon, zipping back and forth past each other, twirling in the air for the sheer joy of it, crossing back and forth, flying as high as they dared. 

He laughed, rocketing upwards, hands thrust down by his sides, feet apart as he flew, eyes and head pointed to ram her in the stomach. She twisted out of the way with a grin and caught his ankle as he shot past her, dropping her ki completely, letting him drag her for as far as he dared. 

As the moon grew larger and larger, they slowed but still played about in the moonlight, the two semi-saiyans growing tired and the hour growing late. 

The forest was spread out beneath them, the moonlight glinting off of a large white dome. A small and modest capsule car was parked in front of the house. 

"Could we? Or is it too late?" she called quietly over the air rushing past them as they soared over her house, careful to keep her voice quiet enough to keep from waking those in the quaint little house below. 

He looked back at her and nodded. 

Silently, a solemnity having fallen over them, they veered a hard right, and flew on into the night.

*************************  
A/N: Ok, yeah, it takes a lot to figure out who was in this chapter. Sue me. But if you don't, I'll give you the next chapter. ;P 

Are you going to review? I think you're going to review. Yes. You're going to review. Wait, don't--o--au-oh....you're not gonna review. You're mean. 

-Panabelle ;P  
[www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers][1]

   [1]: http://www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers



	41. Chapter 40: Downstairs

  


Disclaimer: I don' wanna! :P 

A/N: Ya know, I'm really running out of things to write here...and I'm a babbler! That's saying sumpin...not sure what...but sumpin... 

Anywayz, yeah. Expect quite a few chapters in the future...I've had quite a bit of time on my hands.

Read. Review. Pretend I said something witty.

************************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 40

  
  


The two brothers were downstairs in the living room, both fast asleep, one on the couch, the other curled up in the easy chair by the window. 

Quietly easing the door shut behind him, he hiked her higher up on his back, feeling her arms tighten around his neck, her breath moving to lap against his ear in her sleepy, half-conscious state. 

Sore and covered in her blood, the soldier labored up the stairs with his angelic companion nestled against his back, wishing his hands were clean so that he could drag himself forward using the railing. 

Reaching the head of the stairs, he shifted the placement of her weight on his back, only to receive a muffled whimper. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered, slipping into her room. 

She mumbled something that he didn't catch, her mind almost as tired as her body. 

Gingerly, he set her on the bed, not in the least surprised about the amount of blood she'd shed, suddenly aware of how much of his own she'd drawn. She whimpered as he removed her boots, her swollen ankles screaming in pain. Dropping the boot to the floor, he quickly and gently removed the other, proceeding to shift his position in a fluid motion so that he was leaning over her form, his body blocking the moonlight from touching her own. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered again, drawing a finger down the line of her jaw. Guilt and happiness played on his features as his bright blue eyes shone aqua in the childlike touch of the full moon. "I forgot my own strength. I didn't mean to hurt you like that." 

Smirking up at him, she settled peacefully back into her pillow, eyes laughing at his sudden innocence, while her own were suddenly evil, tainted by his corruption. 

"I'd have told you if it really hurt all that bad," she whispered playfully, earning herself a full-fledged and heartfelt smile from the soldier that had carried her home all this way. 

Shaking his head, they murmured their goodnights, and he stood to leave. 

She tensed as he tensed, pain and dizziness searing through his senses; the tiny fallen angel placed a hand in the small of his back as he stumbled and put his fingers to his temple. Groggily, the soldier sank back down onto her bed, waiting for the spell to pass. Hands gripped the edge of the mattress, bunched the comforter with soiled fingers, suddenly aware of the blood on it. Suddenly guilty about having done this to her, about having ruined this for her. 

"You should stay here tonight," she told him, the worry in her voice drawing his attention back to her, her fingers drawing lines down his back along his spine. "My uncle never uses his room down stairs. I'm sure my father wouldn't mind..." 

"Downstairs is a long ways away," he mumbled, rubbing his head, even his voice grimacing from the pain of the spell. 

She sighed worriedly as he lay back, pillowing his head on her stomach. 

"Yes. It is."

****************************  
A/N: I've been hearing a lot about muses lately...quite frankly, I'm feeling left out here. My muse has *yet* to show his/herself to me...*starts bawling*....

Oh well. Originally I had a quirky little bit about my Chibi Trunks action figure making a comment about being my muse right here, but I don't feel like joining this wagon. I'll watch it pass and just keep my muse to myself.

_So strike a match, hope it lasts, here's to following your own lead...._ (Less Than Jake, Faction)

-Panabelle ;P  
[www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers][1]

   [1]: http://www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers



	42. Chapter 41: Pillow

Disclaimer: _AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!! GET IT AWAY! GET IT AWAY!_

A/N: Remember how I said I'd get to it? I got to it.

*******************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 41

She stayed awake and thought as he slept, legs hanging off the edge of her small bed, hands folded peacefully across his lower chest, head pillowed against her stomach. 

She wasn't about to tell him about the pain her in stomach, about the fact that the pressure his head was putting on it was only making it more unbearable. The young soldier had tended to her when she was too weak to make it home; it was her turn to tend to him. 

Her fingers combed his hair back away from his eyes, sweeping lavender bangs to one side, her own eyes smiling sadly down at his sleeping face; she had to admit that he was adorable when he slept-he looked so peaceful and so quiet when his eyes were closed and his mind was dreaming. There was a small smile on his lips...he looked genuinely happy. 

An emotion that was completely out of place when one thought about the state he had been in less than half a week ago. 

Her lips turned slightly down, farther from the heavens. 

Less than half a week ago... 

She closed her eyes and let them drift to the window.

  


_"Sweetie, you can tell me what's wrong...please, tell me what's wrong..." _

She clenched her eyes and kept silent, pretending to be asleep as he rubbed her shoulder, drew his palm down the length of her hair. Slowly his own hysterics calmed as he came under the illusion that she had fallen asleep. His hand swept down her hair, as he admired what-who-she'd turned into. She could feel his eyes linger on her "sleeping" face, felt him press a loving kiss to her temple, sweeping her hair out of the way. 

"My little girl," he whispered from where he was settled next to her on the bed, her face nestled against his chest as if she were eleven years old, and had had a bad dream or a bad fight with her best friend, or had done some terrible atrocity that in all truth was just her conscience getting the better of her, instead of being the twenty-one year old woman she was. "You grew up without me," he murmured almost sadly, his hand getting caught in her hair. 

She almost smiled as he tried in vain to untangle his hand without waking her, as he tried to free his fingers from the mess he'd made of it. 

Same old Daddy_, she thought with a silent giggle. _

He managed to draw his hand away without disturbing her too much, and then settled back against the pillow once more, shivering in the starlight, despite the warm weather of late.

  


She wasn't sure how much time had passed, but it had. Opening her eyes, she blinked wearily up at her father, noting the faint flush that had crossed over his nose in sleep. When she was little, she remembered, she'd often wake up and see him conked out, face pale in sleep. 

Now, though, as he grew older, there seemed to be a line of red across the bridge of his nose that she could dimly remember growing darker throughout her childhood. 

Shivering, she slid out of her father's arms and wrapped the quilt, that she and her grandmother had made together as a crash-course in learning how to sew, around her shoulders. Feeling naked despite the clothes she wore, she tiptoed to the window, her mind caught up in feelings and pains that she had never experienced before. 

As she pressed her forehead to the glass, in attempt to clam herself before forcing herself to rationally think all of this through and come to a conclusion to her problems, she happened to glance back at him. 

Her father. 

Her mind flew into a whirlwind again. Sighing, she tiptoed back, draping her quilt over him as he shivered. 

"Daddy," she whispered lovingly, gently taking his glasses from the bridge of his nose and setting them on her nightstand, smiling down on her father. 

"Daddy," she sighed quietly, knowing that there was a small chance he would hear her, but not really caring any longer, "remember when you told me that you'd always be here for me? That whatever the problem, you'd help me through? That you'd do everything in your power to make things right again? Daddy...I don't think you can help me with this one... 

"In truth, the entire reason I'm in_ this mess is because you possess all of the power that you do. I don't blame you for any of this...it's not your fault that you're the strongest guy on the planet. It's not your fault that your daughter's a screw up. I just am. Always have been, in some little way." _

She smiled half-heartedly and rubbed her father's head. 

"Not to say that it's your fault Daddy. I just...I just don't make that great of a girl. I'm too headstrong and violent and over-all confused for my own good. It's not how you raised me...if anything, you tried to raise me to be the little girl I was supposed to be, instead of the tomboy I was. But then again...maybe...maybe I'm not as screwed up as I think. I mean, Grandma used to run around with a blade on her head, and pretty much forced Grandpa to marry her. I don't know... 

"I know you want to help Daddy. I know you know-or at least think you know-that something's going on that's got your little girl all distraught. And while, yes, there is, I can't let you help. The possibility of me running home and telling you everything is what got me into this mess. Because with that possibility, comes the knowledge that you'd be out for blood. Whether or not you decided to go after it beside the point. You could get that blood within a heartbeat if you tried." 

She sighed again, backing from the bed. 

"I know you want to help Daddy...but I can't let you." 

With that, she turned back to the window, pressing her forehead to the glass, wishing she knew where her grandfather was.

  


The soldier sighed, drawing her out of her thoughts. 

Blinking wearily, she couldn't help but smile down at him, at the slightly dopey smile and the blush that had formed across the bridge of his nose. 

Even in his dreams he blushed. 

The fallen angel blinked slowly, running her fingers across the features of her soldier, laughing quietly to herself as he turned and swiped at his nose with the side of his hand-almost cat-like-when she touched the end of her nail to the side of his nose. 

She settled back into the pillow, the pain from the night's activities subsiding as she herself subsided into sleep.

****************  
A/N: Ha ha! So you finally found out who was in Pan's bed that night! Ha! Bet you never thought it was Gohan...heh heh heh. You hate me now don't you. Don't worry...things start picking up from here... 

You do realize, of course, that I've left you with a new question: why can't she let him help? Bwa ha ha ha ha! I'm not gonna let you off _that_ easily! *maniacal laughter ensues*

-Panabelle ;P  
[www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers][1]

   [1]: http://www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers



	43. Chapter 42: The Boy

Disclaimer: My Chibi Trunks action figure has decided that he's being neglected. Just because _Denny's_ is the magnetic center of the universe and _he_ isn't, he's decided that he's going to get himself addicted to coffee just so that he can come with me. 

A/N: So, are you guys happy that I finally got the guy in Pan's bed? Or did I draw it out too long for something so "trivial"? Hey, don't look at me. I never said it was Trunks, I said the half-saiyan, and you ppls turned it into Vegeta's oldest brat. There are 3 male half-saiyans, ya know. You built it up, not me. ;P 

Anywayz, here's the next chapter. Warning, it's another one of my famously short ones.

*******************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 42

Black eyes opened with a silent snap, and concern, worry, and anger seared through his soul. 

_What in the name of all things sacred would he be doing in her room?_

He was downstairs again, having forgotten to go upstairs to bed. Not that it mattered...she hadn't been home tonight, she'd been out somewhere with one of her guy friends-an old friend he'd been forced to admit wasn't trying to steal her away from him. That was why he'd been out here, downstairs in the moonlight, waiting for his princess to return. 

He'd missed her return, apparently. She was already upstairs, content and comfortable, asleep and beautiful, just like she always was. 

He stood from the chair. 

He didn't go upstairs. 

Instead, he crossed to the picture window at the front of the living room, staring out over the fields just beyond the property line, where he had first broken down and told his wife just how much she meant to him...where their first child was conceived. 

First child. That was a joke. 

He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms across his chest, looking past the fields, to where he knew lived the others of his race. 

_Why is he in her room, at this hour of night?_

He shook his head, black hair swaying gently above him. 

_The boy's in over his head, this time._

  


*

  


Black eyes forced themselves open, straining to see in the darkness of his living room. 

Something wasn't right. 

Fumbling, he searched for kis, unsure of what it was that was so off to him. 

His wife slept peacefully, dreaming innocent dreams that he didn't have the luxury of, dreams that he hadn't had the luxury of in a long time. It baffled him sometimes as to how pure she really was. He'd known all along that despite her will and demeanor she was as innocent as they came, but that even now she remained as innocent as she was remained a mystery he wasn't about to try and figure out. He'd probably destroy that innocence if he tried. 

His daughter slept soundly, but not as soundly as she'd been sleeping of late. She'd been out late again, later tonight then the previous night, and hadn't bothered to call. He wouldn't reprimand her though, as much as it worried him when she stayed out late, it wasn't his place to treat her like she was sixteen again. 

The boy- 

The boy. That's what was wrong. 

The boy was in a room he didn't belong in. 

Granted he had probably fallen asleep when taking the girl upstairs after work, he didn't belong in her room. 

He rubbed his eyes, dragging himself to his feet and crossing to the picture window instead of going upstairs. 

_What am I going to do about him?_ he wondered quietly, staring out at the lawn where he had finally had it out with the girl that had in time become his wife, telling her the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. She'd been terrified of his past, of course-who wouldn't be afraid of all of the hardships and horrors he had seen, caused, and endured in his lifetime? But just the same, she'd reciprocated his feelings. 

Shaking his head, he crossed his arms across his chest and stared beyond the lawn to the full moon overhead. 

A thrill of unwanted power rushed through him, and he forced himself to close his eyes and turn away, damning himself three times over for that rush. His tail tightened around his waist, and he quietly thanked whatever gods were listening for the power that he possessed...with that power, he had power over the transformation. With that power, he stayed as human as he was, his house remained intact, and his family and the rest of the world remained at peace with each other. 

Amazing. 

Something that could shed such innocence on the world, could also bring out the demonic side in the most innocent. 

He turned his thoughts back to the boy. 

_That boy is just going to end up getting himself hurt._

************************  
A/N: So who's who? Is Vegeta being Vegeta and Gohan being Gohan, or are they being uncharacteristically like the other? I just confused the hell out of you, didn't I? Heh heh heh... ;P

Review, and I'll give you chapter 43.

-Panabelle ;P  
[www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers][1]

   [1]: http://www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers/



	44. Chapter 43: Cover Me

Disclaimer: Fat man in a corsette! Dear God no!

A/N: Ok, I guess I left a lot of you completely confused after that last chapter. I apologize profusely. But that was necessary...you'll see why in the next few chapters. 

Read, review, guess the card in the middle of the deck. 

*********************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 43

  
  


Gohan turned away from the window and started towards the stairs, pausing to throw a blanket from the back of the couch over his brother's sleeping form as he lay on his back, sprawled over the couch in a way that only Goten could ever pull off. Within instants of the blanket covering him, Goten was tangled up and the blanket was taking up just as much room as it's user. Laughing, Gohan continued up the stairs, determined to find out just what in the name of Dende Trunks was doing in his daughter's room. 

Outside the door, he hesitated, knowing that he was going to more then likely face the worst upon opening it. Grinding his teeth and squeezing shut his eyes, his hand gripped the knob and slowly turned it, pushing the door slowly open as if afraid that if he opened it too quickly, a can of paint would come crashing down on him. 

No paint came, and neither did the worst. 

Opening his eyes, he noticed the innocent placings of those on the bed: she sound asleep with her head on the pillow, one leg bent and throwing a shadow across his face as he slept like the dead with his head resting on her stomach and the majority of his lower body hanging over the abyss that separated him from the floor. 

Gohan chuckled quietly, his tail swishing playfully from side to side behind him. He hadn't had the heart nor the courage to cut it off after regrowing it upon the announcement that Pan was leaving the country for four years, and once he'd learned that the power he possessed allowed him the option of choosing to transform, he'd decided that he'd keep it, until the day came when he began to grow weak from age or illness. 

Pan's hand twitched in Trunks's hair, and Trunks moved to nuzzle her hand, barely rubbing his head against her, but all the same, Gohan didn't miss the movement. 

His laughter faded as he moved closer to the bed to retrieve the boy and saw the blood on the sheets and the scrapes and cuts on both of the younger semi-saiyans. He knew it was necessary, but he would have liked to have been informed of it. 

With a sigh, he lifted the boy and slung him over his shoulder, grabbing Pan's quilt from the foot of her bed and throwing it over her, chuckling again as a corner hooked itself over the end of her nose and she broke into child-like struggles and fought to shake off her attacker. The corner fell away and she calmed, grabbing the edge of the quilt and rolling over onto her side and hugging it to her chest as true slumber claimed her. 

Gohan left the room with his living cargo in tow. 

Downstairs he instinctively went to the couch to deposit the boy, but then paused as his brother offered up a quiet snore from his half-opened mouth. Gohan chuckled again and thought of where else to put the boy. 

There really wasn't anywhere else. Goten had been his exact opposite while at the same time had been exactly the same as him. Both possessed the innocence and need to help that had belong to their father, but while Gohan had always been neat and tidy and organized, but Goten was messy, chaotic, and about as organized as the family junk drawer. 

Which left Goten's room out of the question. 

They didn't really have a spare bedroom...that had turned into Goten's room when Goten had decided that he would either live with his brother or his mother-depending on who's cooking smelled better on what night. 

With a sigh, Gohan left Trunks at the kitchen table, throwing a comforter from the linen closet over top the boy completely, knowing from experience that Trunks either slept curled up on top of the blankets, or completely buried under them. 

The boy just sat there hunched over the table as the comforter smothered him, snaking a hand out from under the edge by his head and grabbing a hand full, pulling it under his chin. 

"Night Kid," Gohan sighed, shaking his head.

*********************  
A/N: Ok, so it was Veggiehead then Gohan in the last chapter...you guys remember me mention Gohan regrowing his tail upon the announcement that Pan was leaving for college now? That's something about the stuff I write. I won't let you forget. Which sucks because it's thusfar taken me more then six months to write this. But don't worry, even if you do forget, I'll make it more then clear as to what its purpose is...whatever "it" is, anyways. ;P 

-Panabelle ;P  
[www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers][1]

   [1]: http://www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers



	45. Chapter 44: Fatherly Advice

Disclaimer: Dammit! Chibi Trunks, what have I told you about pancakes? If you're going to make them, make them in the microwave like every other normal human being on the Earth, not on the dogdamned stove! 

A/N: Sorry, Chibi made a mess. Anyways, here's the next chapter. It's a nice long one, so don't complain. I can't really say that much up here without giving anything away, so let's just get to the chapter already. 

Read, review, pat yourself on the back.

*********************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 44

  
  


Dawn was beginning to creep through the windows, but he wasn't there to see it. He'd left several hours ago in the dead of predawn blackness, as the moon had started its arc back down toward the horizon. The air had been heavily laden with dew, smelling as sweet as early summer could smell. 

But he hadn't reveled in the scent as he once would have. 

Once, he would have been lying in the grass on his back, looking up at the stars, the moon, the sun, the clouds, hands crossed behind his head, laughing with his father. And if not his father, his brother. And if his brother was no where to be found, his daughter. 

But not now. Now, he needed fatherly advice to seek, to give. 

And the only father he had to turn to, the only father he had left that could help him with his daughter, was the one person that could never be his father, but that had been in so many ways. 

Searching for the Namek had been the hard part. Piccolo had a way of masking his ki even when stretching it to the limits and beyond the physical realm. It had taken nearly an hour, and only that long because Gohan knew better then to fly to Piccolo's place. 

Piccolo had a perch that very few knew about, and that even fewer dared to approach. Gohan was one of the few that knew where to find him. Goten and Pan were the others. 

Piccolo's perch hadn't changed in nearly twenty years. Gohan had stumbled across it and his old teacher once in the very early stages of his year in the wilderness, when Piccolo had determined himself the only living mortal capable of drawing his hidden power out from his small body. 

It had been a long few weeks, but Gohan had already caught on to what was needed for survival, and had taken to exploring his surroundings. One night, when the moon should have been full, had it been overhead, he had come across a tall waterfall, and had climbed the wet and slippery rocks to the top, thinking that (while his mother was hundreds of miles away and oblivious to his recklessness) he would dive from the top to the bottom, plunge into the crystal depths. But when he had finally reached the top, he had found Piccolo, meditating, his soul at utter peace despite his title of the Demon King. 

But this night, Gohan hadn't had the thought to dive from the top of the mountain into the clear and sparkling depths of the pool below. 

This night, the moon _was_ overhead. 

And Gohan knew who would be at the top. 

Approaching his old mentor had been easier then Gohan had expected it to be. Under usual circumstances, Piccolo was fuming in some way for Gohan's intrusion upon his privacy, and would normally just ignore him for several minutes, sometimes hours, before questioning him upon his being there; if Gohan made the mistake of flying, Piccolo would chew him out for an hour after ignoring him and before offering advice. 

But this time, Piccolo had still been lost in meditation, eyes closed, face as peaceful as it had been the first time Gohan had found him up here. 

Gohan had taken the opportunity to lie on his back near the lip of the ledge, and stare up at the stars and the moon, wondering why an activity that usually brought him such quiet frame of mind seemed only to tighten the binds of his troubles and worries around him. 

His tail twitched agitatedly by his side. He knew it wasn't the moon in combination with his tail. For nearly four years he had lain on the earth with his eyes towards the heavens, marveling at the beauty of the white sphere, and laughing quietly at the irony of how something so beautiful and innocent could drive the innocent to wreak such atrocities upon the world as he and his father had once done. 

It had to be something else. 

Gohan closed his eyes in torment, wishing he knew what was troubling his tiny angel, his daughter, his baby girl; his little Panny. 

As dawn began to creep over the lip of the valley the mountain and it's waterfall faced, Gohan's surrogate father had opened his eyes, blinking almost in surprise at seeing the sun's golden locks fall across the valley. 

"What's wrong, Kid?" he spoke quietly, his voice sardonic, but sincere. 

Gohan blinked and sat up, folding his legs to hold his feet together, sole to sole, with his hands. 

"Good morning, Mr. Piccolo." 

The now aging Namek turned his head, smirking back at the man that had been the first to prove that there was a heart deep within his green chest; that Dr. Suess had not based the Grinch off of him. 

"You're not fooling anyone, you know." 

Gohan nodded miserably. 

"That's what Videl said last night when I broke the last set of chopsticks she was willing to let me use and had to resort to using unsharpened pencils." 

The Namek laughed quietly. 

"Listen Kid. While I appreciate you not interrupting my meditation, I've been waiting all night for you to tell me what's wrong. Now; you can either tell me now, or you can go back to your family and ask them for help." 

Gohan gave a small half smile. Watching from the corner of his eye, Piccolo couldn't believe how much he still looked like the little boy from yesteryear that had taught him the value of friendship. Granted, yes, he was much bigger now, and his hair had changed so many times over the years that most of Piccolo's memories of him were each outfitted with their own haircut, he was still the same kid. 

Both inside and out. 

The tail didn't help with that illusion either. 

"Gohan..." 

Gohan sighed and looked up at Piccolo, offering him a sheepish but genuine smile, tail curling into a question mark behind him, lifting an arm to scratch the back of his neck. 

"I'm sorry, Mr. Piccolo, I've just had a lot on my mind lately, that's all," he said nervously, laughing half-heartedly. 

"Obviously," the Namek muttered, dropping his legs to the ground to stand at the lip of the cliff. When Gohan said nothing, he decided that he'd try and offer a bit of praise that he knew from experience could warm a father's heart. 

He should know. He thought of Gohan as his son. 

"Pan shattered the barrier last night. Gave Vegeta's oldest brat quite a run for his money." 

Gohan grunted exasperatedly in response and flopped back onto his back into the calve-high grass. 

"Kid?" 

"I thought coaxing her through high school was hard. I had considered dealing with her boyfriends and getting her to date again after breakups was a battle worse then the one with Freeza, or even Cell. When she left for college four years ago, I thought that the worst of helping her grow up was over, that the only _real_ challenge that stood ominously in front of me was giving her up to be someone's wife." 

Gohan fell silent, rubbing his temples with the heals of his palms. 

"But I was wrong!" he half-whimpered, half-whined. 

Piccolo had to laugh at Gohan's childishness and naivety, but also had to remind himself that the kid had never really grown up around girls...with the exception of Bulma and his mother, but they were only more evidence that Gohan had a lot to learn about women. 

The day Pan had started her period still stuck out in Piccolo's mind as hysterically funny. 

Piccolo looked back Gohan, and had to laugh. 

"Surely you didn't think that as soon as she was old enough she wouldn't need your help anymore, did you kid? You're nearing sixty and look at who _you're_ still turning to for help." 

Gohan grumbled to himself as he laid his arms spread-eagled out to his side, his eyes peering up at the clouds, vainly searching for peace among their marshmellow-like billows. 

"I never thought _that_. And as much as I hate to admit it, that doesn't apply here anyway, because she's always gone to Trunks or my brother with her problems...unless Dad was still alive, but let's ignore that little fact, shall we? He's gone, he's not coming back, and as much as I want him sitting at my table again eating food faster then Goten, Pan, and myself combined, he's out of the equation. She can't go to him for help this time." 

He sighed again, his tail wrapping itself around his waist, before continuing in the same sad and lost tone. 

"Trunks has played the role of big brother for her since he first baby-sat her, even though they nor the rest of us consider it brother-sister like. But...something happened last weekend...and I don't know what. Pan won't tell me, she won't tell Goten, and, seeing as how Dad's gone and Trunks is the other half of the problem, that doesn't leave anyone for her to go to." 

Piccolo shook his head and faced the valley once more, arms crossed over his chest. 

"What I meant, is that I knew there'd be problems. I knew there'd be hard times and hardships. I knew she'd get herself stepped on and get herself in over her head. She's like Dad in every way I can think of, only more evil...and not so naïve..." 

Piccolo allowed himself a quiet chuckle. Pan definitely was a handful, but not a bad one. 

"_That's_ what I meant, Piccolo," he sighed, dropping all pretense of formality. "I knew she'd always need me, and that she'd always keep me on my toes. But...I just never expected her to break the barrier over something so trivial as Vegeta's cleverly worded 'insults'. It's deeper then that...there are wounds on her hands that she claims were just an accident on account of her pride. But I know her better then that. Or at least did...I'm not sure any more. She keeps throwing surprises in my face about what she did in California while at college. I know she doesn't mean to, but I just never expected her to do the things she did while over there." He sighed again, rubbing his temples with his hands once more, mind flickering to the knowledge of her tattoo. 

"She won't tell me what's wrong. I don't even know if she's aware that I've known something was wrong since whatever it is first _went_ wrong, but I'm not about to press into that. She's always been private, but she's always told me everything at the same time...I don't know. I remember when Dende and I would sit and think about problems to give to people-two kids sitting and thinking about how to turn the world to chaos one person at a time, but I never actually thought he'd get a kick out of throwing some of those imagined scenarios back down on me! Kami, I don't even remember _half_ of the stuff we came up with, but I _do_ remember 'teach baby to play while daddy's away' being on the list!" 

Piccolo smirked, some part deep inside of him responding to a name no longer used. 

"Dende has nothing to do with it, and you know it. The kid knows what he's doing, and he's one of the more gentle guardians the Earth has seen. And while he may occasionally harass the rest of the world, he doesn't rile his friends." 

"Kami was pretty damn gentle," Gohan muttered, but knew better then to elaborate. Even when separated, you didn't cut down Kami in front of Piccolo, or Piccolo in front of Kami. His mother had learned the hard way that with them in the same body, you _really_ didn't tell Piccolo off-you got a lecture from the Kami half, and you didn't cut down Kami-Kami either defended himself, or Piccolo came to his rescue. 

_When you really think about it_, its downright confusing, Gohan thought to himself. _Kinda like when they first fused and we didn't know what to call Piccolo._

"Dende's as soft-spoken as they come, Kid. He's raised his voice very few times in his entire life-all but two or three of those times being to chase Vegeta's brat and your brother away from the lookout." 

Gohan sighed, feeling very unlike himself. Any other time he would laughing at the thought of Dende all red in the face, his skin an odd tone of brown-blood, ears quivering, antennae sticking straight off his head like horns, the memory of the time Trunks and Goten had gotten it into their heads to booby-trap the lookout with a gaggle's worth of feathers and five gallons of chocolate syrup blazing in his mind like the sun on the horizon at dusk. 

They'd had even Piccolo laughing to the point of tears and falling down that time...even if to this day they weren't allowed at the lookout unless in times of emergency... 

"I just wish I knew what to do about her, Piccolo. Usually I at least know how to help her. She usually tells me that much, even when she wants to take care of it herself, afraid as she might be that I might come to her rescue. But she hasn't told me that much, because she _knows_ that I might come to her rescue. I never have and never will without her consent, but..." 

"You said so yourself that you never thought that there would be more problems then giving her away, didn't you?" Piccolo asked quietly. 

"Yeah, I did, but I don't see how that applies..." Gohan started as he sat up, before trailing off. 

"She's always been close to Vegeta's brat. Back when she was the same age as you were when Goku died the second time, it was obvious she had some..._thing_...for him. You and I would joke about it when we'd talk." 

Gohan nodded despite his being behind Piccolo's back. He climbed to his feet and walked forward, standing next to his old teacher, knowing better then to look at his face, instead shoving his hands deep into his pockets, looking out over the valley that had for one year of his life been his home. 

"What are you getting at, Piccolo?" he asked after a few minutes had passed, risking a glance up at the face of his past teacher, time-to-time mentor, and long-time friend. 

In the sun's gentle glow, Piccolo's face seemed to have softened, even more then it appeared to have softened with age. While he himself still looked as young as he always had, aside from a few grey hairs caused by Pan and his brother over the years, Piccolo had aged gracefully and late in life. His skin was a paler green then it had ever been, with tiny lines spreading from the corners of his eyes. The peaks of his once pointy ears drooped slightly forward, his right ear was notched from a battle or spar. His face was still the same shape it had always been. His powerful hands, once as tender and smooth as a mother's caress, had softened to well-worn leather, the palms covered in tiny wrinkles that a child could spend hours finding mazes in. Unlike Kami, his skin had not grown taut over his bones, but neither had it sagged on them. There were just scowl lines and worry lines here and there on his face, not to mention slight and nearly invisible smile lines. His eyes had grown old, and grown wise, but still remained as vivid and vivacious as yesteryear, the whites still white, unlike the yellow that Kami's had become. 

Gohan quickly dropped his gaze before Piccolo caught on to it, almost ashamed at having been so forward with the old Namek. 

"You're a bright kid, Gohan. You don't need me to figure this one out for you. You said yourself that there was only one problem with parenting that you had yet to conquer. Giving her away. Even she knows that. She hasn't told you what's wrong, and has gone to lengths to avoid anything that would clue you in as to figure out what it is that's bothering her. Think about it a minute. It'll come to you." 

Gohan ground his teeth. 

"Vegeta came to terms with it, why can't you?" 

All of the anger that had been brewing inside of him from the heartbeat he had felt Pan's ki skyrocket late Friday night, early Saturday morning, suddenly seemed to catch fire with Piccolo's words-words he himself had said weren't true. Everything that had been harbored and festering inside boiled over and imploded, the shockwave of the inward implosion bouncing back off of itself and registering in every limb of his body, every nerve and impulse and synapse in his nervous system screamed and threatened to shut down. 

Almost against the will of his mind and the will of his being, his body reacted; all at once, his head flung itself backwards as his knees buckled slightly forward, forcing his weight onto the balls of his feet. He clenched his fists near his chest and thrust his shoulders back and his elbows down, a scream rocketing forth from his lips as his eyes flew open as wide as they would go. His pupils dilated and then contracted inwards into nothing, flying back into place as if he had merely blinked, a bright aqua green that showed no emotion, no doubt. His hair stiffened to points, stained itself gold as his body was engulf in flames of yellow and blue lightning, the flames and lightning swirling one full cycle around his tortured form before widening the cyclone to eat at the surrounding area, kicking up the top soil and throwing a cloud of dust around itself like a cloak. His eyes contracted again, pain shooting them black, his hair converting back to black in a fluid sensation, brighter flames engulfing him and settling as he dropped to his knees, supporting his upper body with his hands as he hung his head towards the ground, panting, eyes alternately clenched shut as tight as he could shut them, and as open as they would go, pupils contracted. 

Piccolo didn't even looked as if he'd moved, but the furrows in the soil of the mountaintop showed that he'd been shoved at least a good meter away from Gohan, and that he had turned to intercept the blast head on, obviously so that he could block it. 

They stayed there in silence, the only sound that of Gohan's tormented and worn out panting as his head hung towards the ground and hunched into his shoulders, and the snap and billow of Piccolo's cape. 

"Been...been a long time...since I did that," the half-saiyan offered weakly, his face pale from the power, cheeks red from the knowledge of why it'd been so eager for release. 

Piccolo merely smirked. 

Another moment passed, and Gohan shoved himself to his feet, his eyes taking in every detail of the valley: the birds, the animals, the rivers and mountains. The plateaus and mesas, the red and yellow faces of the cliffs, green trees and golden grasses. 

"You might want to power down before you scare the pants off the brat and lose your daughter's trust." 

Gohan blinked and looked his mentor full in the face, even though they stood profile to profile. 

"If he hurts her again, I'll kill him. She knows it, that's why she's said nothing. Scaring him without being near him doesn't necessarily mean I'm after _him_, per se." 

"Your evil streak will never cease to amuse me, you know that Kid?" 

"She was right in thinking I'd be out for blood." 

Piccolo merely shrugged and looked back out over the valley. A moment later, Gohan turned his gaze there as well, hands back in his pockets. 

Both were reminded of a time, not long after Gohan had married Videl, when Gohan had decided it time to retire the Great Saiyaman. The two of them had stood in the same fashion at sunset, quietly watching dusk set upon the valley as they said nothing and simply enjoyed 'what-was' between them, what was this, and what was that. Piccolo's cape had billowed and snapped behind them, keeping the silence from growing ominous. It was the last time Gohan had stood in the form he now stood in, deciding that it was an unneeded form. That, to spend so much time in it, would only invite trouble. 

And he had let this form alone, last touching it twenty years ago, and even then, with reluctant and hesitant fingers. 

"Your wife is wondering what's going on," Piccolo stated, as if it were the answer to everything. 

Gohan nodded. "It's been a long time...and I told her that it would be a long time...until it was ever necessary again." 

"And is it necessary?" 

Gohan shook his head, not knowing any longer. 

"I'm not planning on staying in it too long...I just needed a release...apparently I'd needed one more then I had thought." 

"You've got your release Kid." 

Gohan nodded and pulled his hands from his pockets. 

"I think I'll get going home now...see if Pan wants to talk before she leaves for work," he said quietly, pushing himself off the ground with the toes of one foot as effortlessly as if underwater. 

"Work?" 

He paused in midair, suspended over the pool beneath the waterfall, and twisted to look back at his old friend, his eyes and being distant from the truth, obviously still disoriented from his release of power. 

"Yeah...Bulma got this crazy idea to throw her and Trunks into Capsule Corp for a week and see if she can swim in the business world...something about...fixing something between the two of them...and getting Pan to stay in the country..." he trailed off, eyes turning towards the direction of his house, face following. 

"'Stay in the country'?" Piccolo prompted, slightly worried about how much, exactly, Gohan had suppressed. 

"I've got to go...I'll talk to you later, Mr. Piccolo," Gohan mumbled before shooting off, his form disappearing completely to the eye, and even to the eye of Piccolo's ki, he was barely more then a blur. 

"See ya, Kid." 

He was worried...Gohan and suppressed emotions were like Vegeta's temper and Bulma's mouth...the outcome was not always a pleasant one to witness.

*********************  
A/N: Ok, so I'm answering questions and throwing in the threat of Gohan. Where should I take it from here guys?

Review please! 

-Panabelle ;P  
[www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers][1]

   [1]: http://www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers



	46. Chapter 45: Release Valve

Disclaimer: I 

A/N: IT'S GONE!! NO MORE WRITER'S BLOCK! WOO HOO! If ff.net weren't having technical difficulties, I'd have gotten this up a few days ago. But that's not what matters. What matters is that I've gotten over the curse of the writer, and have done my tidings to get where I am. I'm babbling aren't I? Oh. Me sorry. Feel free to ignore me and read the chapters now. 

Yes, chapters. 5 of them. ;P

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Petrified Tears  
chapter 45

  
  


She awoke with a start, falling out of bed in the process. 

Grabbing a handful of deep black hair, she shoved it out of her eyes, and hurried to her feet. She burst out of her room, damning decency as she most nearly flew down the stairs, almost breaking her neck in the process. 

She paused in the doorway of the kitchen, finding no purple-haired boy, as she had found not a few hours ago when coming downstairs in search of her husband. 

"Shit," she swore quietly, turning around and hightailing it out of the house, shouldering the door open, too worried about the sake of he who'd been sleeping at their kitchen table then about her own small frame. 

She slid to a stop in the front yard, already seeing the others. 

The much younger and very much alive carbon copy of her father-in-law stood in battle stance, next to the purple haired boy who'd been at the table only hours before, clothes torn and bloodied. They mirrored each other, making nervous eye contact every few too-still moments. On the roof stood her daughter, clothes torn and eyes wild with fear and concern, her hair whipping out of her pony tail around her face. Her hands were held in front of her, both poised and curled for combat, eyes darting here and there, looking for either her father, or the enemy that had forced her father to display such power. Her hands spasmed from poised and perfect to slack and worried, her right hand raising occasionally to flick hair out of her face and behind an ear. 

All three look like they had suffered through one battle, and are wary as to the certain death of the enemy. 

Her mother-in-law stands in front of the door, just beyond the range that her wild sprint from the house had allowed before she stopped. The older woman is still as young and attractive as she'd ever been, though tired and tried. Her black-and-turning-silver hair hangs limply and untangled around her face, whipping in her eyes in the slight breeze that has sprung up in the early morning hours. She clutched the necklines of her nightdress and bathrobe, staring up into the sky with a determined but terrified gaze. 

The two women meet each other's eyes. The younger nodded to the older, and in spite of the fact that her sleep shorts were faded and her tee shirt slightly too large, she sprinted forward again, bursting between the two young men at the end of the walk, and rocketing into the sky, her face as determined as it had ever been in youth. 

"Mom!" her daughter called after her, but remained resolutely on the roof. 

She ignored her daughter, flying straight and true towards her husband. 

They met in midair not far from the house; those on the lawn and she on the roof were too small for expression but large enough to distinguish movement. 

He smiled at her, meekly, a silent promise to explain before the sun had set. 

They let the wind and their own inertia bring them to a stop mere inches apart, and he reached around, planting his hand deep within the silky strands of black hair that adorned her head, leaning forward and tenderly kissing her forehead. He pulled back, retrieving his hand, pausing only to flick a chunk of black hair from her eyes. 

Her worry left her, and her body relaxed as his arm crept under hers to support her. Draping her own arm over his shoulder, they returned to the ground at the foot of their walk, both taking two or three steps forward out of habit to slow their landing. 

"Gohan, what's going on?" Goten demanded as he and Trunks hesitantly straightened from their positions, eyes sill wary and scanning the horizon and surrounding landscape for some approaching evil. 

"Dad!" Pan cried, leaping off the roof and jogging to her father. 

Gohan smiled with fatherly love and set a hand on her head, gently mussing her hair as she looked up at him with worried and child-like eyes, much like she had always looked up to him, and he his own father. 

Letting go of his wife and dropping his hand from their daughter's head, he closed his eyes and quickly shook his head, all pretense of power falling away, leaving only the happy-go-lucky husband she had married. 

"Go back to bed, Videl," he told her, smiling sheepishly. "Everything's fine." 

She planted her feet and crossed her arms, glaring up at him defiantly through her hair. Pan stood before him just as defiantly, but her eyes searched his for some sort of explanation. 

"Gohan," called his brother again as ChiChi smiled assuredly and slipped back into the house. 

The oldest semi-saiyan grinned sheepishly and full-heartedly, rubbing the back of his head as he looked back and forth between his wife and daughter. He paused, suddenly, and began to lower his arm, before letting out a quiet laugh and returning his hand to the back of his head. 

Confused, mother and daughter looked at each other from the corner of their eyes, only to each crack a smile and join him in laughter as realization dawned on them. For one instant in their lives, the older had been the younger and the younger had been the older: mother demanding a "why", daughter searching for a rational explanation. 

Goten and Trunks glanced worriedly at each other, neither yet sure of what had been going on, each wondering if it was really safe. 

"Daddy!" 

"Gohan!" 

Videl threw herself on her husband's back, pounding his shoulders; Pan launched herself into his arms, punching his chest. 

Smiling demonically, Gohan caught his daughter around the waist and flipped her upside-down, leaving her to look back through his legs as he walked forward, leaving his wife no option but to cling for dear life. 

"Gohan," Goten started as his bother passed between he and his best friend to enter the house. 

"What's going on?" Trunks supplied, both he and Goten turning to watch the small parade move up the walk. 

"It's called a release valve, Trunks," he replied in passing. "A better alternative then severing relations and inviting death." 

Trunks paled and involuntarily took a step back. 

Upside-down, Pan cocked her head, confusion and perplexity playing across her delicate and still dusty face as she witnessed Trunks's reaction. 

"I suggest you learn it," Gohan finished as he entered the house.

**************************  
A/N: Uh-oh…Gohan thinks he has figured it out. Does the future hold a wall and a wooden plaque in the future for Trunks's head? Will Pan's brain explode from all of her blood rushing to it? What did ChiChi make them from breakfast? Quick quick quick! Let's go read the next chapter and find out! 

Oops, hold on a sec, almost forgot something:  
Review and I'll snap you a thumbs up.

-Panabelle ;P  
[Visit my site!][1] <--I MOVED! NEW ADDY! NEW ADDY!

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	47. Chapter 46: It's Not My Fault, I Swear!

Disclaimer: don't 

A/N: Yeah, for those of you who actually pay attention (-.^), I moved my site. The new addy shall be at the bottom of all pages henceforth. 

Come on come on come on! I wanna know what happens!! I wanna see Trunks and Gohan duke it out so that Trunks and Pan can go get married and live happily ever after! Let's go see! Come on!

*******************************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 46

  
  


Trunks had barely enough time to swallow and blink his eyes before Pan came racing out the front door, calling to her grandmother over her shoulder that there was no time for breakfast, thank you kindly. 

She barreled into him, knocking them both to the ground as she clutched the tattered remains of his dusty blazer. 

'Do you have any idea of what time it is?" she demanded, shaking him as her knees squeezed the air out of his lungs as they crushed the sides of his rib cage. 

"Can't-breathe-" 

She was up in an instant, dragging him to his feet, repeating her question. 

"What-Pan, no. It can't be later than-" 

"Look," she commanded, cutting him off. Obligingly, he looked at his watch, only to increase the size of his eyes by threefold, and decrease the color of his skin by five. 

"We have two minutes to get to work before Bulma slaughters us." 

He swallowed thickly, and staggered back a step, before meeting her eyes. Both nodded as ChiChi came running out the front door. 

The two launched themselves into the air just in time to hear ChiChi cry out, "Pan! Food! Catch!" Pan turned around but didn't slow or change direction. ChiChi drew back her arm and flung the tiny capsule forward in a full and fluid arc that brought one foot off the ground. Pan caught it easily. 

"Thanks Grandma!" she called back, stuffing the capsule into her pocket and turning back around. Trunks caught her eye, and she nodded in agreement. 

With a golden burst of hair and energy, he shot ahead. A heartbeat later, she burst forward to catch up to him with the same golden shockwave that had propelled him forward.

  


*

  


They entered through the window in Trunks's office that had conveniently been left open. 

Bulma stood leaning against the front of the desk, back to them, arms crossed over her chest. The angle of her head made the extent of her anger more then clear as she kept her eyes closed and drummed her fingers on her arm. 

"Why in the name of Dende are you late?" she demanded, her voice a reasonable decibel level. 

Swallowing thickly, the two glanced at each other, silently agreeing that it would be safer to stay super-saiyan than to drop their power levels down to normal. 

"I'm waiting." 

Trunks swallowed again, his throat making that _gulping_ sound that Pan had often found so comical. He knew that "I was" would be too long of an answer, that he'd never be able to say anything more before she cut him off. 

"Gohan," he replied matter-of-factly, Pan offering up the explanation of, "My dad," at the same time. 

Bulma whirled around to chastise them, only to have her knees give out and her face seem to fall apart at the sight of them. 

"What-are you al-" She immediately cut herself off and hurried around the desk, twisting this way and that, lifting an arm, touching the skin over his spleen, lifting tears in the fabric of his clothing, knowing better then to just ask him if he were alright. 

"Mom, I'm fine," he assured her, only to have her go around another time to make sure she hadn't overlooked anything. 

Pan couldn't help but laugh. 

"Bulma, he's fine. We just went out sparring last night before we went back to my house." 

"So that's what Vegeta was mumbling about when he finally came to bed," she murmured, waving off the confused glances of the blond "children" before her. She stepped back, glancing them both over with a trained and critical eye. 

Trunks's dark navy slacks were dusty and in places stained even black. They were torn on the bottom and frayed, holes and rips were scattered here and there in decent places, and some places revealing the green boxers that were the same color as his eyes (currently). His deep navy blazer was missing an entire arm, half of the collar was ripped off in the back, and tattered in the front on both sides. His white shirt and the blazer both were ripped to near shreds. 

However, the undershirt underneath was in as pristine a condition (when overlooking sweat, dust, blood, and grime) as his boxers. 

His hair was stiff with blood on one side of his head, and dried blood was smeared and splattered elsewhere across his face, hair, hands, and neck. Dust covered some of the dried blood on his cheeks, and was covered by blood on his forehead. 

Bulma turned her eye to Pan, who faired little better, yet little worse. 

One leg of her pants were in shreds, showing tantalizing glimpses of pale skin beneath when she moved a certain way. However, those glimpses often showed dried lines of blood down her leg. The white sock at the end of the leg was stained with blood almost completely. Her shirt was torn and tattered, but faired far better then the shirt Trunks wore. Both sleeves were still connected to it, although neither fully intact, and half of her collar had been ripped clear off along with part of the shoulder, revealing the strap of the black tiny-tank she wore underneath. The bottom half of the right front of the shirt had been removed by some sort of blast, showing the tank top stained blacker then her hair normally was. Her pony tail was wild and chunks of hair hung in her face-or would hang in her face, as soon as she dropped her power level. Her face wasn't nearly so bloody, but dust covered her face in a childish fashion. 

Bulma looked at them, unsure of who had bled more, of who's blood was who's, and completely unsure if she wanted to know. 

"I hardly think that you two could do that to each other. And if you _did_ it to each other, then why in hell did you both insinuate Gohan as the reason you're both late?" 

Trunks's mouth instantly went dry; if it hadn't, he surely would have swallowed again. He opened and closed his mouth a few times like a fish, before looking beseechingly at Pan with terrified eyes. 

She shrugged, and seemed to teeter, but then steadied herself and explained. 

"My dad woke us all up this morning with a really high power level-higher then _I'd_ ever felt it, but Mom and Uncle Goten and Trunks had obviously felt it that high before because they were all paranoid and terrified. Like I wasn't," she added hastily. She shook herself mentally and continued. "Anyways, we were all pretty shaken and waited for him since it seemed he was coming back towards the house. I guess we lost track of time." 

Bulma eyed them both carefully, then caught and held the shifty gaze of her son. 

Blue eyes locked on aqua green. Trunks sighed and nodded at her unspoken question, dropping out of super-saiyan as he did so. His hair settled awkwardly about his head, strands sticking straight up and all over. 

Bulma sighed, anger gone. 

"I thought he'd sworn to never use that form again unless it was needed," she murmured. 

"Release valve," Trunks grumbled, tearing his eyes from her gaze and growling at the back of his black swivel chair. His face twitched, and Pan couldn't help but feel fear and resentment-betrayal even-pour off of him like water from an oil painting. She tried to block herself from the odd emanations coming from him, but not very successfully. 

"Do you think," Bulma started, only to have Trunks nod and brush past her. 

"I know." 

Bulma stood rigid for a moment, her face terrified that he was back into his black-pride and petrified emotion frame of mind. 

Pan just drew in a deep breath and let it out with a quiet sigh of relief as she dropped the anger she'd been holding in the back of her mind. 

"I'll deal with him," her promised quietly. "Go invent or whatever it is you do while you leave him here to suffer and me to baby-sit," she added with a wink. "I'm a big girl, I can take care of myself." 

Bulma smiled, sure that her plan had worked, but unsure as to whether or not she wanted to leave her son as he was. Doubt flickered for a moment in her eyes, but she grudgingly agreed, knowing that he was more like his father now then he had ever been before, and that once he wanted to talk, he'd find her. 

She ran her eyes over Pan one more time, deciding to send Bra to bring clothes for both the girl and her son, when her eyes lighted on the fact that she was barefoot. 

"Pan?" 

"My mom's bringing my shoes once she beats what happened out of my father."

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A/N: Yes, I mock you. Bwa ha ha ha ha! They did not fight! But-the next chapter? Maybe? Maybe maybe maybe? I gotta go find out! Let's go! Three chapters left to the update-maybe the next one is the one where he breaks down and tells her he loves her and they live happily ever after! Come on come on come on!

-Panabelle ;P  
[Shrine of the Saiyan Squirt][1] NEW ADDY! NEW ADDY!

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	48. Chapter 47: Is It Safe?

Disclaimer: own 

A/N: Heh heh heh. My author's comments getting to you? Sorry. Is really late at night, me stressed, and I'm a caffeine freak. I just finished playing Wielder of the Red Pen for Panno, and I'm kinda hyper. So yes, I mock you, but it's all in good fun. ;P Feel free to take it out on me in reviews. 

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Petrified Tears  
chapter 47

  
  


Pan sat on the cover of the xerox machine, waiting for the copies to finish. She wasn't worried about cracking the plastic cover; the machine was built to withstand a saiyan temper tantrum. It could stand to hold 137 pounds. 

"So you see, that's the predicament I'm in," she explained to her lord as she brought up her right foot and shoved it into her sneaker. Tightening the laces, she continued. "See, you don't know what I'm talking about. You don't really have a face of your own, your own personality. You just have no choice but to show people the face they want to see-their own." 

The machine beeped at her, signaling the completion of its task. Looking down at the pile, she noted that they hadn't been sorted, even though she had pressed the _auto-sort_ button. She laughed as she pushed herself off and scooped up the pile into her arms. 

"I suppose I deserve that," she laughed, bowing as best she could behind the tower of photocopies. 

Turning from the room, she skillfully maneuvered her way through the teeming scores of girls in the hallways that seemed to take pleasure in trying to swallow her up with their masses and suffocate her. 

She figured that if need be, she could just levitate above them and terrify the shit out of them all. 

Not like any were really trying to knock her under or ever over today. She looked like hell, like she'd killed something. They were afraid. 

Whether they were afraid of getting blood on their skirts or of pissing her off, she didn't know. 

Eventually, she made her way to the door leading to Trunks's office-in time to hear him scream in primal rage and feel his ki destroy something. 

Worriedly, she cracked the door and peeked through, seeing him perched on his swivel chair. The chair faced the windows, but he faced the desk, one foot on the seat, the other raised to support his weight on the top of the chair back, his finger pointing with malice at the computer terminal that sat on his desk, smoke trickling from a round hole in the glass in front, and in the back of the screen. 

"Trunks?" she asked as she entered cautiously, closing the door, seeing the maniacal glee spread across his features as he laughed at the now deceased machine on his desk. "What did the monitor ever do to you?" 

He opened his mouth to answer, only to be interrupted by an abrupt humming. 

Eyes growing wide, he dove behind the chair. 

"Fire in the hole!" he cried, heartbeats before the monitor sent itself into oblivion with a puff of smoke, a small _bang_, and flying "shrapnel" that couldn't have been more then tiny pieces of plastic that weren't nearly as lethal as a plastic Barbie shoe. 

Shifting the tower of papers to balance on one arm, she waved her free hand in front of her face to dissipate the smoke from the small explosion. 

"Some how I get the feeling that you've blown up monitors before," she coughed. 

The top of Trunks's head appeared over the back of his chair, eyes darting about the room, looking eagerly for something else to attack. 

"Is it safe?" he whispered, glancing about the room. 

Pan rolled her eyes. "Yes, it's safe," she replied, like she would to a child, crossing farther into the room. "Now, care to explain what the monitor did to make you destroy it?" 

"Is it safe?" he repeated, his eyes locking intently on hers, his ki suddenly dropping out of existence. 

Worried as to why he was suddenly masking his ki, she hesitated. "Yes, Trunks. It's perfectly safe. There are no more computer monitors to try and hurt your feelings. Now please, tell me what impelled you to blow up the monitor." 

"Are you sure?" he whispered as she approached the desk. 

Exasperated now, sure he was just playing around with her from boredom, she took a deep breath. "Yes, Trunks," she chided, placing the tower of paper on the desk. "It's safe." 

"Good!" he cried as the tower blocked him from her sight. 

She froze as the tower in front of her exploded into a storm of white, broken only by a large and masculine body flying through it to tackle her to the ground. 

She landed with an _eep!_, Trunks's weight heavy upon her chest, his face and eyes close to her own as the papers rained down on them. 

"It wasn't safe," she sputtered through the searing pain his weight was creating. 

To her surprise, he giggled. 

Gasping, she attempted to shove him off of her. "Trunks, I can sit on your chest because I don't weigh nearly half as much as you do. You're crushing me! Off!" 

He looked down at her, before levitating off of her, but still hovering over her, not allowing her to get up. 

"Trunks," she sighed, looking up at him with her hands pinned above her head by his own. 

"Yes?" he asked innocently enough, looking down at her with a demonic gleam in his eye. "What is it Pan-Pan?" 

Grinding her teeth at the nickname, she forced herself to remain calm. 

"We have a lot of work to do. I hope to actually sleep tonight. I want to be home by dinnertime. If we have to stay after hours, I swear to Dende, that I will kill you. So. I suggest you get off of me so that we can get to work," she growled, teeth clenched. 

He grinned and sat back on her legs, dropping out of the air and letting her up. 

"Jeez, Panno. What's gotten into you today? You're no fun-I just wanted to play!" 

Her eyes grew wide and she launched herself at him, tackling him and pounding the stuffing out of him.

***************************  
A/N: Oooooooooo, kinky. Wonder where this leads to? 

The smiles are free at McDonalds. So go to MickeyD's and order onion rings, a whopper, and a smile.

-Panabelle ;P  
[Shrine of the Saiyan Squirt][1] I MOVED! GO HERE NOW!

   [1]: 



	49. Chapter 48: Girl Talk

Disclaimer: Dragonball/Z/GT. 

A/N: *ducks under desk and presses **Upload Chapter** button*

*********************************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 48

  
  


"So much for getting out of here early, wouldn't you say, Panny?" 

"I think Bulma was just waiting for the last minute to give us this insane amount of paper work that needs to be postmarked tomorrow morning." 

"Yep, that's Mom." 

She sighed, rubbing her temples. 

A hand reached from above her to console her, but had to pat around to find the top of her head. Once found, it contented itself by combing its fingers back through her bangs. 

They lay on the top of Trunks's desk, because now that the monitor had met with an undeserved and untimely demise by Trunks, the CPU had been barbarically destroyed by Pan, and the two semi-saiyans had played scrabble with the letters from the keyboard, it was entirely possible to lay down on it. 

Trunks was using Pan's right shoulder to pillow his head, and she was using his to pillow hers. His legs hung off the desk from the knees down, the heels of her feet balanced on the edge of the desk, her knees pointing at the wall. 

"I don't want to be here." 

"I know, Pan." 

"I want to be home." 

"So do I." 

"I want to go try on that dress and see if it still fits." 

"_What!?_" 

Pan felt color raging up her neck and into her face, and was thankful for their positions so that he couldn't see. 

"Nothing," she answered, a little too hurriedly, unbelieving that she'd actually said that aloud. Truth be told, she wasn't even aware she had. 

Trunks was staring at the ceiling, his eyes wide from a statement he'd never thought he'd hear her make. 

"That's…that's funny, because for a minute there I thought I heard you say you wanted to go home and see if a dress still fit you," he laughed nervously. 

Pan felt her face roar into a fiery inferno. 

"That's because…um…because…I…did…" 

Had they not been supporting each other, he would have fallen off the desk. 

"_What?!_" 

Pan bit the inside of her cheek, crossing her eyes at the ceiling in exasperation. 

"So sue me Trunks. I want to go home and see if a dress still fits me. I wear skirts every so often, what's the difference between a skirt and a dress?" she snapped, tilting her head to glare back at the curve of his face. 

"Something you've always been pretty adamant about, Panno. You tell me," he snapped back, tilting his head in turn. 

Nearly eye to eye, they both narrowed their eyes, shooting daggers at each other in an all out staring war. To which growling was a secret weapon. Gnashing teeth and clenched fists won battles in themselves. 

The war would have rocketed to thwaps on the head, had the phone next to Pan not rang. 

With a grumble, she turned away and answered it after the seventeenth or twenty-ninth ring. 

"Hello, Capsule Corp offices. Some chick speaking on behalf of the gay guy." 

"_Pan!!_" Trunks cried, throwing his arms back in attempt to get the phone away from her. "I am _not_ gay!" 

"'Some chick speaking on behalf of the gay guy'? Pan?" came the voice on the other end of the line. She could almost hear him raise his eyebrow. 

"Hey Daddy. Yes. 'Some chick speaking on behalf of the gay guy'." 

"Pan! Give me the phone!" Trunks roared, arms flailing behind his head and above hers in attempt to grab the receiver away from her, only to have Pan knock his hands away with her own. 

"I think that 'gay guy' you're working for is unhappy with you, Panny," Gohan chuckled, hearing the disgruntled and exasperated squawking of her lavender-haired best friend. 

Pan shrugged in response, despite the fact that the person she was responding to was on the phone. 

"Eh. His problem. So what's up Daddy?" 

"Just wondering when you're going to be home." 

Pan removed the phone from her ear, held her hand over the mouth piece, and screamed. 

"Gah! Pan! Tone it down! Tone it down!" Trunks screamed in response, gripping the sides of his head as the scream reverberated in their elaborate cage. 

"Today was that bad, I take it?" Gohan offered meekly, his own ears aching, when he heard Pan put the phone back to her ear. 

"Like you helped!" she cried. 

There was nothing but silence on the other line as Pan switched the phone to her other ear, letting Trunks listen in. 

"What's that supposed to mean?" her father offered weakly. 

"I don't know. Why don't you tell me what the hell triggered that 'release valve' this morning?" she snapped. 

"Don't give me that tone of voice, young lady," Gohan snapped back. 

Pan growled. 

Gohan growled back. 

Trunks started sweating. 

"Pan," Trunks hissed, poking the top of her head, pointing at the phone. 

"Daddy," she warned. 

"You tell me, Pan." 

Her eyes grew wide and she too broke out into a sweat. 

"Daddy?!" 

There was a pause while Gohan recollected himself, then, "Pan, I miss my daughter. You've just spent the last four years in California doing _Dende_ knows what, and out of the 7 days you've been back home, all of them have been with either Bra or Trunks, or so depressed you won't even _let_ me _know_ what the hell is going on!" 

Pan swallowed. 

"Daddy, is that…" 

"Yes Panny. I want my daughter back. All I've seen of you in the past three days is zombie-Pan. I thought you promised me you'd killed off zombie-Pan after high school." 

Pan sighed, rubbing her head. "Daddy, you know as well as I do that this wasn't my idea." 

"Is Bulma _paying_ you to be there?" 

Pan sighed again, pulling her hair. 

"Daddy, would _you_ want to cross Bulma?" 

There was a pause, then a reluctant, "Good point." 

"You have no idea how hard the two of us worked today in order to get everything done before 5 o-clock. Only to have Bulma and her lackey stop us in the hall with more paper-work then the two of us could even lift as we tried to leave." 

"That's why you use the window," Gohan told her. 

"It's called a 'security check'. Bulma instigated something or other that required a generator shut down, and steal doors to clamp over the windows." 

"Why didn't you just blast through them?" 

"Ever wonder what happened to that spaceship I shanghaied?" 

"Oh." 

Pan grumbled inaudibly under her breath before continuing. "Daddy, we're gonna get back to work now. I'll try and be home before 1 am, alright?" 

"Alright." 

"And you _wait up_ for me so that you can explain this whole thing to me because I doubt 'zombie-Pan' triggered that need for release. If I'm not home by 2, I've probably crashed on the couch here at the office." 

Without saying much more, she hung up. 

"You know," Trunks said as she settled back against his shoulder, adjusting his own head as well, "we _did_ get a surprisingly large amount of work done, today…" 

"Yeah, especially for not having a computer," she added with a laugh. 

The silence started to grow ominous as they lay there, both trying not to fall asleep as they ignored the stacks of papers that barricaded them in the office. 

"What's wrong, Pan," he whispered, reaching back and combing her bangs again, not having to grope around this time. 

"Nothing's wrong…" 

"And nothing's right. Explain." 

Grumbling, Pan lifted her hands and pulled the bandages from them, studying the wounds. 

"I'm just wondering why these won't heal…I mean, most of the wounds from last night are barely dangerous anymore, and these are…I don't know…still fresh?" 

Trunks didn't buy it. 

"I know that's not what's got you so quiet Pan. We've both learned the hard way that self-inflicted wounds heal slower. We all have. What's eating you? Seriously." 

She shook her head. 

"Nothing's eating me, really." 

"Oh." 

The silence pressed on them again. 

"Trunks?" 

"Yeah?" 

"What's your deepest, darkest secret?" she asked quietly. 

His hand paused in her hair, and he sat up, disrupting her, but not caring. 

"Pan…" 

"Really, I want to know. I mean, really. You said 'no more secrets'. Why not take advantage of this while we have the chance?" 

He laughed, looking back at her. She tilted her head back to look at him. 

"Why not?" he wondered aloud. "It's been a long time since we've had a real heart-to-heart." 

"Excepting Monday." 

He nodded in agreement. 

"Excepting Monday." 

"Well?" Pan asked. "What's this deep dark secret of yours?" 

Trunks laughed. 

"Why do I suddenly feel like my sister?" 

"Like I actually spill anything to other females," she laughed, rolling over onto her stomach and laying her chin on her crossed hands. "We're known to gossip. Besides, you're evading the question." 

"I'm terrified of being alone," he said simply, staring deep into her eyes. 

Pan's eyes bugged out of her head and her jaw dropped. 

"What?" 

He nodded. 

"I hate being alone. It's not the whole 'will I ever meet _her_' thing that I have a problem with. I don't _need_ to find _her_, hell, I've got a _fanclub_ full of possible and willing _hers_…I just don't like to be alone. At all." 

"But…but…" 

He laughed, rubbing the back of his head in a manner picked up from too many hours of his life time spent around a Son. 

"Hey…I thought…well, I also said no ridicule the other day too…I-" 

Pan laughed. 

"I just never actually thought that would be it," she replied, her cheeks slightly red. "But, what do you mean _alone_, if you don't mean romantically?" 

He smirked half-heartedly. 

"I just don't like to be alone. I like to be around people." 

"But I still don't-" 

"There's a reason that the Sock Puppet of Smelly Death exists, Pan." 

"Oh." She grew quiet, studying his face, everything about him suddenly pulling together to make perfect sense. Why he was always around someone, be it her or her uncle, sometimes ever her father, just "talking" about business and the past. Why he avoided training alone in the gravity chamber at all costs. Why he hated his job so much. And why he disappeared out the window to 'kidnap' her every chance he got before she had left for college, or to go goof off with Goten. But then… 

"Trunks, that doesn't explain why you blew us all off a few days ago." 

He dropped his head, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he pushed himself off the desk to his feet. Bulma had never sent anyone after clothes for either of them, they were still in their tattered clothes from yesterday. 

"Pan, _I_ don't know why I did that. The only explanation I can come up with…well…that I was afraid." 

She blinked, completely shocked by the confessions coming from the son of Vegeta. 

"Afraid?" 

He nodded, almost shame-facedly. "Afraid." 

"Afraid of what?" she asked quietly, her face concerned and comforting. 

He looked back at her, meeting her eyes with pain that she could hardly bear to witness. 

"I was afraid of myself. Of what I'd lost." 

Pan blinked, then blushed, then ducked her head. 

"Trunks…" 

"I do that when I'm afraid," he hurried on, a blush of remembrance creeping into his own face. "I pull away from the rest of the world. I distance myself. I've been doing it a lot lately…if you hadn't gone to college so far away, or if you'd _come home_ every once in a while, you would have noticed I was doing it and probably beat some sense into me before I got as bad as I did last weekend." 

_That explains this morning when he blew of Bulma…_

She looked up at him confused. "Why didn't Uncle Goten or Bra or Marron or Daddy knock you around until they got through to you? Or even Vegeta or Bulma?" 

He shrugged. "My parents were oblivious to it…well, not true. If my dad noticed, he didn't do anything about it, same with my mom. Actually, it seems to be hereditary…like pride in a way. Bra hasn't really been around too much lately; boyfriends take up her life. Marron and I haven't really spoken since we hit the jagged rocks at the bottom of the well about three years ago; she wasn't around to stop me." 

"Well, what about Uncle Goten?" 

Trunks's face fell into a sheepish smile that even _he_ seemed to want to slap off of his face. 

"I've spoken to Goten _once_ since you left for college." 

"_What?!_" 

He nodded. 

"I'll tell you about it another time…we still have one more night in this hellhole…maybe if you're good, I'll tell you tomorrow." 

She laughed, but the tiny worm of curiosity was burrowing its way into her brain. 

"Ok." She waited for his sheepish form to relax, her eyes glued to the clock, and then, "Ok, you wanna tell me yet?" 

He jumped, diving across the desk to grab her and shake her. 

Her laughter broken into jerky starts and stops by his fervor, she pointed at the clock embedded in the wall above the doors to his office. 

_12:01 am_

Disgusted, he dropped her and laughed. 

"You really want to know?" 

Gingerly holding the fingers of one hand to her head as her world settled, she nodded. 

He sighed and sank back down onto the desk, laying the back of his neck onto the cross of her ankles for support. 

"It's a long story, so I'd suggest making yourself comfortable." 

Pan smiled down at him, pulling the capsule that ChiChi had thrown her that morning out of her pocket. Tossing it straight up and off to the side of the desk, it opened landed as a small card table bowing under the weight of all the food within arm's reach. 

"Please be courteous and quiet during the show. Refreshments are available at the snack table."

*****************************  
A/N: One by one, the penguins steal my sanity.

-Panabelle ;P  
[Shrine of the Saiyan Squirt][1] *giggles*

   [1]: 



	50. Chapter 49: It All Comes Down to Me

Disclaimer: Smiles are free at McDonald's…but I think you have to pay for them at Burger King. CORPORATE SCUM! 

A/N: Dude! There are little people on my screen! Cool!

********************************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 49

  
  


"Marron and I were talking of trying a relationship one last time when you left for college. We didn't say anything to anyone else, because we didn't want to hear everybody go off on how it had never worked between us before, so why should it would now? Not even Goten knew. I know we should have told him, we both knew, but there was just that fear he wouldn't understand, and both she and I were so desperate for any kind of relationship that I could have been abusive and she could have been stealing money from me at every turn, and we still would have crawled back to each other. 

"Things went on like that for about a month, before Goten…well…for lack of a better explanation…walked in on us. We weren't…yeah…but Goten immediately placed one and one and about seventy-nine together, and came to a conclusion that wasn't that far from the truth." 

"Seventy-nine?" Pan interrupted, her hands smoothing his hair back from his face. 

He looked up at her guiltily and nodded. 

"That's about how many times we lied to him…" 

"Oh." 

He looked back down at his hands as they rested across his chest. 

"Goten and I weren't exactly on good terms to begin with…I guess we both sort of blamed each other as the reason to why you had gone to college so far away…and him missing his niece and me the only person in the world I've ever really trusted with near-blindness, only made us quietly hate each other when you didn't come back for Christmas and every other holiday you'd promised to come back on. 

"But he'd been talking to Marron a lot, and she'd told him what she and I had agreed to tell everyone who asked: we both missed you and were compensating for your absence by giving _our_ friendship another go. He'd bought it, because it wasn't too far from a tiny bit of the truth, but when he stormed into the office that morning, and found us…well…found us…" he trailed off and shook his head. 

"He screamed at me something along the lines of me being the reason you'd gone to California, that _I_'d chased you off and that _I_ was the reason you weren't coming home. I was pissed, took a swing at him, and the thing turned into an all out brawl in which no concern for Marron was spared…we probably would have killed her and ourselves had we not blown up the computer and monitor in the process and me been knocked unconscious by the blast…I'll tell you one thing, computers from three and a half years ago will destroy a room if you hit them with a ki blast." 

He sighed, twisting his hands to look at the old training scars on the palms. 

"When I came to, Marron and I decided 'no more', and we both quietly left and never spoke of the incident to anyone…especially not each other. She went after Goten to make amends, and I flew out and camped on the roof of your house, hoping to catch him when he went home so that he and I could talk rationally. I was there for quite a while, and believe me, by the time he showed up I was pretty disappointed in myself…and really pissed at him. 

"He showed up a few hours later, but went inside without more then a glare at me, and I stayed out there until nightfall when he came storming out onto the roof to have it out with me again. We set off into the old training fields without saying anything to each other, and just started kicking the shit out of each other, same as we had done in my office-in here-that same morning, only there was no Marron to (not) worry about and nothing to blow up and knock either or both of us unconscious. 

"Somewhere around midnight, about the time the moon came out, I finally just lost it, broke something, and nearly killed him. That was when we talked. I demanded to know just what the hell had gotten into him, and all he could do was yell at me about how it was my fault, that I was a cold heartless bastard, and that I didn't deserve anything I had ever gotten from any girl, unless it was a swift kick in the ass. I hit him again, and he started talking rationally.

  


_ "How could you lie to me about you and Marron?" _

"I_'m not the one who lied about it, Goten. _She_ did." _

"Because you told her to!" 

Trunks grumbled, rubbing the side of his face with his hand. "Goten, we just didn't want to put up with all of that shit we got last time, alright?" 

"No! Not alright! I'm your best friend!" 

Tempted to scream, You're not my best friend anymore Goten! You started chasing girls and left me with Panny!_, but considering that he had been chasing girls at the time as well, he knew better. Instead he bit the inside of his cheek with razor sharp teeth and replied with, "Goten, I know we could have trusted you to understand…but I haven't really seen a lot of you. You're always off with Paris or some other girl." _

"Do you have any idea of how much you hurt her?" 

Trunks stepped back, blinking quickly in confusion, allowing Goten the dignity of getting off the ground and standing up. 

"Hurt who? Marron? Or Paris?" 

Goten's fist had flailed out, knocking Trunks flat on his ass. 

"Pan! Pan, you idiot!" Goten shrieked, towering over him. 

Sprawled nearly on his back, legs askew, he dropped his power level back to normal and stared up at his friend as if he had just turned into a giant ape. 

"Pan? What the hell are you talking about? How the hell did I hurt Pan?" 

Goten had glared down at him for a moment, then had dropped his own power level and stared down at him sadly. 

"You really don't know, do you?" he said quietly. 

Trunks stared up at him incredulously. "What do you mean, 'I don't know'? What the hell are you talking about?" 

Goten sighed. 

"You don't know what it was like for her…any of it. What she went through." 

"What what_ was like for her? _What_ did she go through? Goten, what in the name of Dende are you talking about?" _

Goten merely shook his head. "If you don't know already, you wouldn't believe me." And with that, he turned and walked back to the house.

  


Trunks sighed after reflecting back on, and telling Pan of, the conversation. 

"So basically, it's _my_ fault you two fell out," she stated simply after a few minutes of contemplation. 

He tilted his head and looked back her. They were lying on the desk again, both using the other's shoulder as a pillow. She was looking at the ceiling in careful contemplation, her face peaceful and almost smiling as she reviewed what he'd told her. 

"Not really…" 

"No. If I hadn't gone to Cali, or if I'd come home every so often, you two wouldn't have busted your balls with trying to pin the blame of my being _happy_ in Cali, and not _wanting_ to come home, on each other." 

He was quiet for a moment, looking back at her. 

"Well, if you put it that way…yeah, I guess. But not really…" 

"Like hell 'not really'. Uncle Goten knew I had my reasons, and he's the only soul I trusted them with. Unfortunately, he kinda crossed hairs and turned multiple reasons into one, and blaming you was the outcome. But had I not gone to Cali, he never would have found out those reasons, never would have gotten his own idea of everything, and never would have tried to beat the shit out of you in my name." She shook her head. "Whichever way you paint the picture, it's all going to come down to my going to California and not coming home." 

"Or to Marron lying to Goten because I was too chickenshit to tell him she and I were seeing each other again." 

Pan quieted, but then shook her head. "He would have understood if it were just Marron. Hell, he's never told you about half of the girlfriends he had, and I know for a fact he's never told you that he dated Bra for about two weeks during my senior year." 

"_What?!_" 

Pan squawked indignantly as she was thrown to the floor by Trunks flopping over to stare at her. 

Rubbing her head and rubbing her ass, she looked up at him. 

"Oops." 

His eyes took up more then half of his face, while his pupils had shrunk to barely half their normal size. 

"He what?" he demanded flatly. 

She swallowed thickly, cursing herself and the easy frame of mind that her family was cursed with that allowed them to slip up with words even when telling themselves to shut the hell up, and sat up, pressing her feet sole-to-sole and holding them in her hand while rubbing the back of her head. 

"Just ignore I said anything, alright? Nothing happened, the age difference was too creepy for either of them and they broke up as soon as Bra discovered the Mexican exchange student and Goten discovered Digimon. Ok? Please? I doubt they even ever kissed. Trunks? Please? Don't say anything? Please?" she begged, laughing giddily, sweating. 

Grumbling, he locked eyes with her. 

"Only on the terms that you tell me how the fuck Goten was able to 'cross hairs' and come to the conclusion I'd hurt you." 

Her face paled even further. 

"I give you my full-hearted blessings and permission to kill and castrate him. I'll even help." 

His head fell forward against the hand griping the edge of the desk. 

She laughed as she listened to him grumble. 

"Sorry Trunks. But there are just some things I'll never you. It's kind of like your sex life. I don't want to hear it, nor do I want you to tell it. In this case, I don't want you to hear my reasons, nor do I want to tell you them." 

He grumbled into his fist, staring with a dumb "I knew better then to ask" expression on the visible top half of his face. 

She laughed. 

"Maybe someday…but not anytime soon. I'm all for this 'no secrets' thing you've proposed, but telling you all of my reasons would just be going too far." 

He glared down at her, his face comical to the point of near hysteria, and then formed real words besides the inane and inaudible grumblings he had done nothing but form for the past three minutes. 

"Then what's _your_ deepest, darkest secret, Pan." 

She smiled warmly up at him, her face bordering the bright innocence that her father and uncle had inherited from their father. 

"I would give almost anything to be your sister for one day." 

******************************  
A/N: no more chapters for today. *sniffs* Oh damn. Oh well. 

-  
[NO! NO! DON'T GO HERE! DON'T DO IT! NO NO NO NO NO! *screaming shrilly*][1]

   [1]: http://www.geocities.com/panabelle18/nogo.html



	51. Chapter 50: Panny? Please come home.

Disclaimer: I don't even own money. One would think that if I owned some small part of the Dragonball/DragonballZ franchise, I'd own money, but nooooooo_OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO_oooooooooo, I'm broke. So it's only obvious that I own nothing here...except the story. 

A/N: Only 3 days until _Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back!_ hits theaters! Woo hoo! Huh? Oh, oops. Ignore that. Anyways, yeah. Sorry about my lil' comments as far as the a/ns of the last 5 chapters, I was bored and high on caffiene, and mad at the fact that ff.net was down for two weeks. So I'm hoping to make it up to y'all with another chapter? 

Reviews are like smiles. They brighten your day. But they're not free at McDonald's. 

**************************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 50

  
  


"Care to explain that?" he stuttered out five minutes later. 

Pan laughed at the expression on his face. It was classic. Hanging half off the desk, his eyes as wide as dinner saucers, pupils tiny specks of blue, his face some hue of indigo over his tan and white beneath, his jaw hung low enough for Pan to stick her head into his mouth. 

Had there been someone with a camera nearby, she would have tried the theory, peace sign and all. 

"I would give almost anything to be your sister for one day," she repeated, her eyes sparkling with honesty, and a truth it had taken her years to come to terms with. 

Her whole face was alive at that moment, her face glowing almost pinkly across her cheeks and nose. Skin had never looked so soft on any woman, grown up or just pretending to be. Even in spite of the dust that still freckled her forehead and the side of her face, she glowed. Her hair had been pulled from its pony tail hours ago to be brushed, and now hung limply around her face and across her shoulders, shining healthily beneath the layer of dust that had settled on it the night before. 

If he crossed his eyes, he could swear he saw wings stretched out behind her. 

Blinking furiously, he realized it was only the towers of paperwork barricading them in the office. 

He quickly shook his head, his eyes returning to a less frightening and hysterical size, the indigo-blue tint across his cheeks and nose refusing to fade. 

"Pan, I don't-" 

She laughed, her cheeks blushing furiously. He smiled in spite of himself, his face returning to its normal color beneath his tan, the odd hint on top starting to slowly fade. 

_I wanna know how he stays so tan with an office job…_

She quickly banished the thought and blushed even deeper under his gaze. 

"What I mean is-" 

_Dammit!_ Trunks's screamed inside his head as the phone rang. 

Sighing, some part of her laughing because she'd had a very distinct feeling that she'd be interrupted, she got up, brushed herself off, and reached under and behind Trunks to grab the receiver he had rolled onto when he knocked her off the desk. 

"Hello, Capsule Corp. Unless you're the pizza dude, the cook at the Golden Dragon on Central, or someone willing to go down to Denny's and bring us the restaurant's entire supply of smothered cheese fries minus the bacon, this is just an answering machine. So what is your purpose for calling?" 

"At least you didn't say I was gay this time," Trunks muttered, pushing himself up into a sitting position, his face back to normal. 

"Panny?" came the voice on the line. 

"Mom?" 

"Hi, Sweetheart." 

"Mom, why are you calling?" Pan asked, turning and leaning back against the desk, her face concerned, the blush still there as she avoided Trunks's inquisitive and probing gaze. "What's wrong?" 

"Your father is refusing to come to bed, that's what's wrong." 

Pan's head dropped forward onto her chest with a quiet chortle, face faulting. 

"You've got to be kidding me." 

She heard her mother turn her head away from the receiver. 

"_Gohan! I'm only going to tell you one more time! Get your ass up here and come to bed! The girl is fine!_" she heard her scream across the house. 

"_No! She told me to wait up for her and that's what I'm going to do! I have a lot of things that I need to tell that girl, and that she needs to tell me, and I'm not going to sleep until she and I have a nice, long-due, father-daughter talk! I don't care if I have to wait until Saturday afternoon before Bra's party! I'll skip work if I have to! That girl has gone too far this time!_" came the angry and off-hinge cry from the other end of the house. 

"_That doesn't mean you have to wait on the front lawn!_" 

"_Yes it does! She might fly past on the way to the sparring fields again!_" 

"_Fine! You're sleeping on the couch for the next week! And the blanket stays with me!_" 

There was a pause, then her mother came back on the line. "Panny, please? Come home?" 

Pan was laughing so hard that she could barely stand and had to cling to Trunks to keep her balance. 

"I'm not kidding! Please!" 

"Al-alright, Momma. I'll…" She paused to gasp, drawing in a wheezing breath through lungs that were nearly rock hard from laughter. "It hurts," she whimpered between fits of laughter, one arm across her abdomen clutching her side. "I'll…I'll be home…heh…soon…" She broke back down into hysterical laughter her legs giving out beneath her. 

Trunks caught her around the waist and took the phone from her. 

"Videl?" 

"Trunks?" 

"_Trunks?! Argh! I'll kill him! Purple-headed bastard! Take my little girl away from m-ag! Purple-head?! Gah! No! No! The mental image! Agh! I'll kill him! I tear his fucking head off! Yeah! That's it! I'll tear them both off!…Ahg! Make the mental picture go away! Make it go away!…The brat will die for this!_" 

"Ignore him. He's insane right now and doesn't know what he's saying," Videl said calmy. 

"I'll never be able to look at my myself the same way again, thanks to him," Trunks grumbled sourly. 

Pan had just come out of her fit of laughter. The volume of her father's voice more then enough to carry to her ears even over her own laughter. With wide eyes she turned slowly around, looking at Trunks. Her eyes tripled in size, her face paled, and she doubled over against his chest, clutching at his torn shirt, eyes spurting tears out the corners. The shirt ripped and she would have fallen against indecent depths, had he not wrapped his arms around her and clutched her to his chest. 

"And neither will your daughter," he added as an afterthought. 

Videl laughed. 

"Trunks-" 

"Yeah, I'll have her back there by the time she can breathe again." 

"Are you sure," Videl hesitated, then swallowed thickly. "Gohan's not exactly right in the head right now. And while it's all just insane, fatherly concern, he's not like _my_ father who even Master _Roshi_ could take. He might go off on you, and there's no one brave enough or stupid enough to come to your rescue. Pan knows better-he'd show you no mercy if she tried to stop him without a fight. And with Goku gone, the only person who could take him long enough for you to talk sense into him or for him to beat out his anger, is your father. And we both know he wouldn't even acknowledge the fact that you would literally be fighting for your life." 

Trunks nodded, absently stroking Pan's hair as she laughed and sputtered. 

"Pain…can't…" she paused to gasp, her face buried in his stomach, "…breathe! Lungs…hurt…" 

"I know. But he'd probably kill me even if I avoided your property at all costs because 'I left her to stumble home exhausted and after dark'. I think I'd be safer if I took her home." 

"Good point." 

"Learned that one with my sister." 

"Just make sure you get her home quickly." 

"Will do. Bye Videl." 

"Good-night Trunks." 

Trunks hung up and looked down at the giggling girl in his arms. Her face was pale and tinted blue, and he doubted she could have opened her eyes if she tried. 

_Learned that one with my sister…I would give almost anything to be your sister for one day…_

He pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind, sliding his hand under her hair and against her scalp, gently massaging the back of her neck. There was no way he was getting that out of her now. But there was always tomorrow. 

Blinking, he lifted his gaze from the source of exuberant laughter to the clock on the far wall. It was so late that the only source of light in the office was the light of the full moon streaming through the windows, the power generators having been shut off at one am. 

_Correction. There's always the rest of today._

He looked back down at her, then smirked evilly. Without warning, he stood and let go of her. 

She landed on her back with a squawk, whatever wind left in her lungs now gone. 

She lay there like a stranded and marooned turtle, eyes wide, unable to breathe, before Trunks's face appeared to swim in her bleary and blurry vision. 

And the laughter started again. 

With a groan, Trunks scooped her up, slung her over a shoulder, and slipped out the window back towards her house, glad that they'd finished working before they'd attempted to fall asleep on his desk.

*********************************  
A/N: Not to say that this chapter really explained anything, but not to say that it _didn't_ raise Trunks's hackles just a bit, which more then likely means _something_. ;P Anyways, y'all know the drill: 

_Sit down, remind me how this is the same old story of growin' up and gettin' lost._

Less Than Jake's got the drill down, why don't you? *pauses* Dude! Random lyric/statement actually fits the story for once! *shakes head in amazement, o.O * I swear to the Gods of all that I honestly didn't plan that!

-Panabelle ;P  
[I FORBID YOU TO FOLLOW THIS LINK!!!!][1] I'm serious, bad things will happen if you follow that link. I just might have to yell at you and tell you to depart from the page it takes you to.

   [1]: http://www.geocities.com/panabelle18/nogo.html



	52. Chapter 51: Face Off

Disclaimer: My tummy hurts. I going to go get some aspirin...I think we own some of that. 

A/N: Two chapters in a day! After a 5 chapter update the day before? Either I've given up, or I've hit a streak! Anyways, this is the last chapter for today. I'm updating this on a whim, after sitting on it a few days (actually, I'm a few chapters ahead of what I've posted, but am editing them and seeing if they really work well in the story). Enjoy. 

Smiles give you purpose, just like reviews. Reviews are really just written smiles, or smirks, depending on their nature. Unless the smile is one of the free ones from McDonalds. 

**************************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 51

  
  


She shifted and shivered in his arms as he cradled her to his chest, her eyes still twinkling with laughter. She'd calmed significantly in the cool air outside; her laughter subsiding to giggles, the giggles subsiding to a genuine Son smile. Now the smile was secretive and reserved, but still sincere, as the chill evening wind whipped against them as they flew into it. 

He tightened his hold on her, gripping her tightly to him as he felt the chill of the air ripple through him. If he was cold, she was freezing. He had long ago learned that cold touched her more then any of the rest of the semi-saiyans. Goten had jokingly mentioned once that it was because she had less saiyan blood then the rest of them. She had then proceeded to kick his ass. 

_Goten_. 

He winced at the memory of his childhood best friend as he cradled the only person who he really knew anymore against him. 

He and Goten had fallen out completely, the lack of trust and the guilt they both harbored, still fresh and biting to this day whenever he thought of it, not to be dismissed until Pan was safe at home, with no need to ever go back to California again, except maybe to visit friends-times when they could go back with her. 

_I'm going back to California with summer's end… I have a guy friend out there who I'm close to…who understands enough to accept me…_

He ground his teeth, wishing that whatever reasons she'd had for going over there hadn't existed. That she hadn't left at all. 

She shivered again and he held her closer instinctively, his mind flipping back to the previous Friday night, back on the beach. He looked down at her as he flew, smiling sheepishly as she peeked up at him through his arms, her eyes twinkling but shaded over by their own private night. 

"I know what you're thinking," she told him, shifting and wrapping an arm around the back of his neck as he started in midair and nearly dropped her. 

Face blazing he looked down at her with a smile, not caring that the full moon-over head showed the entirety of his expression to her. 

"This is how Friday night should have ended," he said quietly, looking back to the skies as clouds surrounded them. 

"Friday night never happened," she mumbled, using her ki to steer them out of the path of a pair of falcons. 

"I know it didn't," he laughed smoothly, not missing a beat. "That's why this is how it should have ended." 

She laughed, the darkness lifting from her eyes. "Yeah. Had we listened to _me_ and sparred, instead of going to the beach." 

"We never went to the beach, remember?" 

"Yes we-argh! Nevermind! Just shut up!" she cried, playfully slapping him as he laughed at her fumble. She moved her arm under his and across his back, setting the top of her cheek against his shoulder, her eyes peeking over it and up at the sky and stars. 

They fell into a comfortable silence, the only sound that of the air whipping past them, before Pan sighed. 

"Tired?" 

"A little. More or less wishing I could be back up there again, actually." 

He glanced back at her with his eyes, noting the pale blue hue of her skin, the streaks of indigo that highlighted her hair, a gift from midnight herself. Her eyes shone like black sapphires, blue diamonds, completely alive in the dead of night. 

"Sometimes I can't help but feel the same way," he acknowledged, changing his hold on her. 

"Dende, it's gorgeous," she purred quietly, her eyes twinkling with their own stars, her body relaxing and subsiding against his own. 

"Yeah," he agreed, holding her closer out of habit. "Breath-taking." 

"The stars, the moon…especially when it's full like this," she sighed, her voice quiet and melodic, entrapping him into a trance. 

"That's because we're drawn to the moon, Panny. Especially when it's full like it was last night and is tonight-" 

He froze, stopping, seeming to stand on the air in terror. 

"Trunks?" she asked, levitating away from him. "What is it? You don't have a tail do you?" 

He swallowed thickly, his pupils so tiny he didn't seem to have any at all. 

"No, I don't…but your dad does," he choked out hoarsely. 

Pan immediately understood and hooked an arm through his, pulling him after her as she steered them towards her house, which could be seen sparkling in the near distance. 

"Don't worry about my father. I'll protect you from him. You haven't done anything other then what didn't happen, so therefore he doesn't need to know." 

"Pan," he whimpered, clinging to her arm like he had once clung to his mother as a child, whenever his father had tormented him and was no longer around. "Pan, he'll kill me. It doesn't matter that Friday didn't happen, I still did it! He knows I did something, and whether or not you tell him, he'll kill me! Especially if Goten was able to cross hairs and pin the blame on me!" 

Pan laughed, taking the opportunity to wrap her arms around him and hold his back to her chest, leaving him to dangle beneath her as they sped off to her house, where her father waited on the lawn, turning the tables of the past. 

"I'm only going to tell you once. I won't let him kill you. Maim you, maybe. But only during daylight hours." He whimpered and she laughed, wondering what they looked like, she holding him like a teddy bear, him hanging in her arms. "I've dealt with my father before, under circumstances far worse then me staying not being home for a week. Trust me. 

"Now, what you're going to do, is you're going to pull yourself together and drop below me to fly on your own. Then you're going to land with me in front my father, with that classic Vegeta face you inherited, showing no fear. What my father is going to do is either start in on you, or tell you to stay put and hear him out. I'm going to contradict him, and you're going to contradict us both and use some excuse to go home, alright?" 

He swallowed, and she felt his ki charge. 

"Alright?" she repeated, letting go and pulling up beneath him, flying with her back to the ground. His face was stern, impassive, just like she always remembered it to be from her childhood. 

"Trunks? Alright?" 

He smirked down at her, swiping playfully at her. She dodged the blow and veered slightly right as they made their descent to the ground. 

Gohan was waiting for them, fully dressed, and completely sane. Angry beyond all reason, but sane nonetheless. 

They landed at the same time, touching down and slowly lowering themselves to the ground, both with the ingrained fighter's grace that they'd learned to use without a second thought over the spans of their lifetimes. 

"Sorry Daddy," Pan laughed, her face bright, eyes twinkling with laughter. 

"My mom 'surprised' us with more work she'd 'forgotten' about," Trunks added casually, shrugging and pushing his hands into his pockets, seemingly completely oblivious to the fact that the fingers of his right hand showed through a hole acquired during the previous night's sparring match. "If she didn't know better, I'd almost say she's attempting to lock us up in there until we go insane enough to make a break for one of the local chapels so that she can get those 'grandbabies' she wants so badly." 

Gohan's slightly peevish face twitched, his expression conveying anger and hate as he unconsciously powered up. Pan and Trunks both threw their hands up in front of their faces to block the blast of power, leaning forward and digging their feet into the ground as they were shoved back towards the surrounding trees. 

Gradually, the dust cleared, revealing one _very_ pissed off Gohan. 

"You stay away from my daughter!" he cried, his voice echoing in the stillness of the night, his tail whipping furiously, the moon overhead threatening to slide into his line of vision. 

"Gohan, she's my best friend-practically a little sister! Please!" Trunks shot back, powering up as well, his eyes shadowed black by anger of accusation as he slowly pushed his power level up. 

Gohan smirked evilly as his invitation was accepted, and dropped into a defensive stance. His power flickered maliciously about him like a tiny flame about to consume a house. "You really think you can take me, boy, with your power?" he chided, his voice barely above a whisper, yet eerily loud in the silence that had fallen with his transformation. 

"Seeing as how I have no intention of sleeping with her," Trunks retorted, his voice even with anger and clearly stated, he paused to let his power rocket through him, snapping his hair gold and his eyes green. He dropped into a stance to meet his opponent. "Yes," he finished coolly, his voice displaying the arrogant attitude of his father that veiled the true power to back up his words beneath. 

Gohan smiled, a light passing over his eyes from the inside. 

"Then bring it on, kid." 

Trunks smirked, then launched himself towards the older man, knowing full well that he wouldn't land the punch, but accepting the invitation just like he would have with Goten or Pan. 

"Keep your ass outta this, Trunks!" Pan cried, breaking the stillness, meeting with Trunks millimeters before he would have met with her father, knocking him upside the head with a roundhouse kick, sending him into one of the surrounding trees. Still turning, she set one foot on the ground and completed the revolution to set the other on the ground, facing him with an stance that would allow her to turn and counterattack her father if he tried to jump her from behind for her interference. 

Vision blurred to the left side of his head and black on the right, Trunks pulled himself out of the mess of trees his impact with them had created, shaking his head and gripping the back half of the right side, where her foot had made contact. 

With a snarl that was pure Vegeta, he whipped around, glaring at her with vindictive hate, his cheek twitching, his eyes calm with rage and inner turmoil. 

"If you really want to die," she hissed, mirroring his emotions, face calm and impassive, eyes tormented with anger, "try to retaliate against me, I'll dodge and let you deal with my father. This has nothing to do with you so stay out of it." 

Trunks snarled again and turned his head, looking ahead of him at the trees that paralleled the front of her house. Grinding his teeth and clenching his hands by his side, he clenched his eyes shut, forcing himself to power down, his anger shooting up one last time. His power faded, his hair going with it, then falling back down in respective directions. 

"Pan!" Gohan roared. She whipped around, her hair just as black as his, eyes met to match. 

"Your beef is with me, old man. _I_'m the one you need to talk to. And that's exactly what you're going to do. You're going to power down and calm down," she sneered, holding his gaze. 

"You power down first," he growled, standing tall and glaring down at her. 

"_You're_ going to power down," she commanded, her eyes biting fiercely into his, "and you and I are going to have a nice little talk while the Prince over there goes inside and waits his turn." 

Trunks sneered at the sarcasm in her voice at his title. 

"Like hell, little girl. _You're_ going to power down, and that bastard is going to stay right were he is. We'll talk, but he's not going anywhere." 

Trunks snorted, crossing his arms over his chest, silently demanding their attention as he addressed them. 

"You two are insane if you think I'm going to wait around here." 

"Go in the house," Pan ordered angrily, eyes raging, whipping her head around to glare at him. 

"Stay right where you are," Gohan countered. 

"Like hell." 

Pan's ki skyrocketed gold again. Behind her, Gohan launched himself into a blur to attack, but she grabbed the front of his shirt and used his own momentum to swing him back around and into the ground where he had stood not even heartbeats before. 

"Get your ass in the house," Pan shouted over her father's curses. 

"Make me, kid," he snapped. As her anger registered in the furious flames of ki above her, he laughed. "I'm going home to sleep. We'll finish this in the morning." 

And with that he left, leaving father and daughter to duke it out.

**********************************  
A/N: o.O I have no idea where that chapter came from, but I'm glad it came! 

Smiles are free at McDonald's, but Burgerking makes better french fries. What am I supposed to do!? Argh! If only reviews tasted as good as french fries. 

-Panabelle ;P  
[Shrine of the Saiyan Squirt][1]

   [1]: www.geocities.com/panabelle18



	53. Chapter 52: Tiny Terry-cloth Towel

Disclaimer: Everybody does it, and I wonder why don't you...everybody does it, maybe you should too. 

A/N: I'm loved! New CD from good ol' Sheik Lloyd! Uh-gah! Sorry, forgot where I was for a minute. 

Urgh! This new set up ff.net has is _really_ pissing me off! I mean, I understand that they're trying to get the site back under working order, but couldn't they have _notified_ writers and account holders that there is no more "review alerts" and "author alerts"? Could it have been _that hard_? I mean, form letter, send it "as" a "review"...urgh. NM, ignore me, I'm venting. 

Anyways, yeah. My R-rating comes into play here...those with active 'maginings may want to abstain from reading this...it's a little...er...riske.

*************************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 52

His blood was boiling. His body was raging—it was like puberty all over again, except it wasn't girls he wanted this time. 

This time, he wanted a fight. 

With Gohan. 

He had terrified himself back there, but he hadn't been able to help it. He had wanted to…hell. He didn't know what he wanted. Thinking back, it was almost as if Gohan had been expecting Trunks to accept his challenge of a (for lack of a better word) duel. 

A duel over Pan. 

That terrified him even more. 

Trunks groaned, the need to kill something strong in his chest. His body ached all over; his blood throbbed in his veins, he could feel it pulsing through his entire being. 

Pan's interference had outraged him, but it couldn't have been avoided. She had been doing exactly what she'd told him she'd do: protecting him from her father until daylight and getting him out of there. 

He owed her, he knew he did. 

But still. He had _wanted_ that fight. 

Grinding his teeth against the need, he landed in front of his house, pushing through the from door, stumbling blindly to the kitchen. 

Dende, it'd been a long time since he'd been home. 

"Picking fights again, boy?" came a voice from the shadows beside the refrigerator as Trunks grasped the handle of the door. He glared at his father as the bulb inside the box illuminated his face in such a way that often terrified his mother on many a midnight fridge raid. 

He said nothing in return, merely slammed the door of the fridge and met his father's black stare in the darkness. 

"He'd have killed you, Brat." 

"He'd kill you too, father." 

Vegeta smirked. 

"Of course, I'd want to kill you too if I found you in bed with my daughter." 

"One, _your_ daughter is _my_ sister. Two, I'd like to see you try." 

"Get your ass in the gravity room, Brat, and we'll see about that."

*

Trunks peeled off the bloody remains of his clothing and ducked under the hot spray of water, slumping forward against the back wall of the shower, letting the hot water pummel his back and shoulders. 

"Good Dende, bless you for the gift of never ending hot water," he mumbled contentedly into the cool ceramic tile as he supported his weight against it with his cheek and the side of his forehead. 

It had been a good fight for once. Not only was he able to stand his ground, but he'd given his father a good run for his money. 

He knew he had. 

Vegeta had even told him so. 

"I see you're still conscious, Trunks." Translation? "If you actually trained on a regular basis, you would have won this match. I'm proud of you." 

Trunks smiled into the tile, contented with himself, relishing in the fact that his father had actually used his name. He laughed at the irony of it. Thrity-four years old, nearing thirty-five, and he still felt boy-like pride whenever his father used his name. 

Sighing, he rolled over on the wall, letting the water assault his chest and abs as he laced his fingers behind his head, laying his arms flat against the wall. 

All in all, it hadn't been that bad of a week. Although his neck had developed a permanent kink in it from sleeping on Gohan's table for 2 straight nights, that Gohan wanted to kill him, and that his mother was giving him more work then he'd ever even known could exist at one time, it was still a good week so far. It was half over, for one, and that was a major plus. 

He wouldn't have to worry about waking up in a few hours and showing up late to work, because he had no intention of sleeping. He'd had Pan to turn to whenever work became too much for him, not to mention the fact that he had her, period. His mother hadn't been kidding when she'd told him she'd make everything better again. 

She had. And he was closer to Pan then he had ever been. 

Although her comment about being his sister still bothered him… 

He leaned forward, bracing his hands on the wall in front of him, turning his face up into the spray and sputtering like a child at the sheer joy of the water. 

It'd been a long time since he'd take a nice hot shower. 

Too long.

  


He wrapped the towel around his waist and stepped out of the stall, walking over to the mirror and wiping away the condensation with the back of his arm. He froze as his eyes focused on his reflection. He nearly laughed with joy. 

The wrinkles he'd seen five days ago were merely laugh and smile lines amplified a hundred times by depression. He _did_ still look like he was 18, 21 years old. 

Smirking, he looked down and experimentally poked at his abs, proud to find that they were rock-hard and not nearly as flabby as he'd thought. Ok, so he could stand to lose a few pounds, but considering he was the "proud owner" of a desk job and didn't get much time for exercise or training, he was _very_ pleased with himself. Smirking, his eyes shining blue, he couldn't help but jump around quickly, turning the back of his right shoulder to the mirror, flexing his arm at his reflection and smirking over the muscle at it. 

_Ah…high school_, he laughed quietly to himself. 

Pleased with the image, he moved to stand up, then blushed as his towel fell to the ground, even though he was the only one in the bathroom. He just wasn't one for nakedness unless…well…yeah. 

Too many bad experiences revolving around he and Goten talking some girls into going skinny-dipping with them, only to have the girls run off with their shorts had resulted in being naked…he blushed even redder at the memory 

Picking up the towel and wrapping it back around his waist, he walked into his room and sat down at the end of his bed, running his hands through his hair, cursing himself for not brushing it. 

With a sigh, he flopped back on the bed, leaving his feet flat on the floor. 

"I wish I knew what he'd meant." 

It'd been eating at him for four years. Goten had told him that if he hadn't already known, he'd never believe him. And then he'd left, without another word to him since. And Trunks had been trying to puzzle out the meaning of his words for years. 

He'd come up with nothing. 

And he knew that until Pan was happily settled back at home, he and Goten would never be on speaking terms. And until Pan straightened things out with Goten, they'd never be close. 

But he didn't want Pan to straighten things out. This was _his_ problem. And he was a big boy and perfectly capable of looking after himself. 

Even if he _did_ still live at home and eat the dinners his mom left in the mini-fridge she'd installed in his room when he was in high school and decided that the term "curfew" might apply to Goten, but not him. 

He groaned, rubbing his eyes. 

Every memory from high school involved Goten. From college onward, Goten was there, but so was Pan, Pan taking over the memories and Goten taking _her_ place in the background as the years had progressed. 

_Talk about a guilt trip. And he knows his niece replaced him, that she—Fuck!_

Trunks feel off the bed, landing in a troubled heap on his butt, the towel still on top the comforter. 

Reaching up, he grabbed it, holding it over his lap as he played with the frayed edge. 

"Is that what he…he couldn't have meant that…" Trunks trailed off and collapsed onto his back on the floor, one knee in the air, his other foot curled as if he had been sitting indian-style, the white towel draped strategically and unintentionally to keep him decent if his sister happened to walk in without knocking, which she often did if she knew he was home. 

"I've got to be dreaming," he whispered, his eyes wide as he stared up at and through his ceiling.

***********************  
A/N: I just made a lot of Trunks-lovers happy, didn't I. I know I did. And for those who've been telling me I'm "cute", _would you please mind explaining that?!!?!?!?!_ *panting* Grrr.... 

Anyways, yeah. Smiles are free at McDonald's. (BTB, I actually _hate_ -dislike with extreme intensity- McDonald's, for those of you who've been asking about that. I just have a thing about the free smiles. ;P ) 

-Panabelle ;P  
[My site.][1] Is not down as often as ff.net.

   [1]: http://www.geocities.com/panabelle18



	54. Chapter 53: Children at Heart

Disclaimer: If I were 21, I'd be able to own an empty 6-pack. But I'm not. So instead I just get to "pretend" to own "my" truck...the poc on the side of the house whose engine is inside the garage. 

A/N: Yep, 2 chapters. Is what happens when ff.net is down when I update. 

*********************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 53

_Pan shivered at his touch, his fingers barely glissing the skin under her chin. His eyes probed into hers, and despite that damned smirk, his eyes belied his confidence. They were timid, scared…she would even use the word "hopeful" if she were to take the time to think about it. But the truth of the matter was, she couldn't think. And wouldn't have been able even grasp the concept of doing so had she been told to. _

His eyes were stormy, so many layers of clouds and shields, that it was a wonder she could see the perfect blue that they really were. But she could. 

His fingers moved under her chin, sliding along the side of her neck, pulling her closer as he hooked his hand behind her head, settling it over the bottom of her hairline, fingers running through her hair, his thumb stroking the tender skin behind her left ear. His face drew closer, his eyes clearer and yet more tormented all at once. 

Pan felt her heartbeat rocket into the danger zone as his nose brushed against hers. Their eyes locked—whereas earlier she could have looked away had she tried, she couldn't now unless she drew away completely. His thumb moved slowly behind her ear, but she barely noticed. 

His lips were slightly parted, his breath, oddly shallow, lapping against her own lips as the inch between them wavered in distance. 

His eyes demanded that she keep her attention on them. She could almost say he was begging her to finish what he had indirectly started, but at the same time, she could almost say that he was just waiting to be sure she didn't drive her conveniently placed knee into his groin. 

Kiss me_, she pleaded quietly, and in her mind, she almost sounded like she was whimpering; but in reality, she hadn't said a thing. _Please, kiss me.

His thumb twitched, and she could swear to Dende she could hear his voice in her head. 

Panny…

She blinked, slowly drawing her lashes down to follow the lazy pace set by her eyelids. Her lashes brushed against his, and she could feel him shiver through the tentative connection they were sharing. She opened her eyes at the same slow pace, and in the heartbeat that the connection between their eyes had been closed, something in his eyes had changed. 

They were gentler, kinder…hell, she might even go as far to say that his entire world had been turned upside down and ransacked by the way he was looking at her. His hand flexed in her hair, and with one last glimpse into her soul through her eyes, the distance between them was closed. 

Her eyes closed reflexively, and as his lips touched hers, she couldn't repress the silent sigh that slipped out between them. She could feel him smile, his lips curling up as they prodded hers in attempt to get some sort of physical response out of them. His lips seemed to melt into hers, and for an irrational second, she was terrified that if she kissed him back, they'd never separate and would have to explain to everyone what had happened. But as his lips started to draw away, his mouth beginning to frown because it seemed she hadn't wanted this, she leaned towards him, refusing to let him draw away from her. 

As the kiss threatened to deepen, Pan's mind screamed into "on" mode, reminding her of who she was kissing. She ignored her mind and the voice of reason, forcing her body to lean against his, her arms to wrap around his neck. She had to fight herself, but she managed alright. 

His fingers kneaded the back of her scalp, his lips caressing her own. 

They drew away; his hand slid back along her jawline, coming to rest beneath her chin, the ends of two fingers lifting her face to look him in the eye. 

Her heart had nearly busted with joy at the look he'd given her. 

All shields were gone, all of the torment. They'd reached the eye of the storm. 

And without him saying a word, she knew. 

He—

  


With a groan, Pan flopped over and slammed her hand on her alarm clock, accidentally using too much force and rendering the small mechanical menace into something just as useful as a third leg, her hand breaking through the top board of her nightstand. 

Groggily, she opened her eyes, unwilling to meet the day. 

She'd gotten maybe an hour of sleep after the mini-bout involving Trunks and her father and the 3 hour "chat" she'd then had with her father. Grabbing onto the bar on the top of her headboard, she hauled herself up into a sitting position, looking around the room with tired eyes that were bleary and blurry and that didn't want to focus, wiping the sleep away from her eyes with tired fingers. 

"Even college wasn't this bad," she grumbled, stumbling out of bed and to her closet, then down the hall to the bathroom for a long needed and anticipated shower.

*

She yanked the bathroom door open, for a moment forgetting that it wasn't the sticky bathroom door from the frat house back in California. Adorned in spandex shorts that reached mid-thigh and a dark grey tiny-tank, she staggered down the stairs, her white towel draped over her head like the cowl of a monk. 

"Good morning, Sunshine," Gohan laughed brightly upon seeing his daughter trudge into the kitchen in such a state. Despite the fact that he had slept less then she had, for some reason, he was more awake. 

She grunted in response as she staggered towards the coffee pot, grabbing it from it's hotpad in the Mr. Coffee and drinking it straight from the pot, ignoring the fact that it was straight and as black as it could get, and that her father was probably waiting for another cup. 

"Let's just pretend I'm scolding you, Panny," he laughed, watching as she downed the rest of the pot and wiped off the spout she had drank from with the corner of her tank. "But if your grandmother finds out…well, Trunks would have faired better against me last night then you will against her." 

Putting the pot back in the Mr. Coffee, she looked back at her father, eyes awake but still confused with sleep. 

"Don't kill him, Daddy." 

Gohan laughed. "I have no intention of killing him. Now that I know what's going on, I think he himself did far worse then I could have done. Besides, seeing the boy squirm is more then enough to satisfy my need to protect my little girl." 

Pan shook her head and walked towards him. She tilted her head back and cocked it, looking up at him with wondering eyes, pulling the towel off with one hand, then straightened her head and leaned forward in a headbutt until her forehead rested on his chest. 

"I don' wanna go to work today, Daddy," she mumbled into his chest, eyes closed and nose upturned against his shirt. 

He laughed, rubbing her back. 

"Want me to call Bulma and tell her you were killed so that you can stay home and sleep?" 

Pan laughed in spite of her exhaustion, her mind reaching back to high school mornings much like this one. 

"To tell the truth, I fear her more then any other enemy there could ever be." 

"Why do you say that, Panny?" Gohan asked, amused and curious. 

"She knows where I live." 

Gohan started laughing. "Go upstairs and get dressed then. Trunks just pulled up and I want to talk to him before you two leave today." 

"I am dressed," she mumbled, setting her hands on her father's stomach and pushing herself upright to look him sternly in the eye. 

"Pan?" 

"You're just going to _talk_ to him, right Daddy?" she warned, her eyes holding an edge to them that he had learned to respect only a few hours before. 

He nodded, reaching up and scratching the dark purple bruise covering the top half of the left side of his head that had resulted in his collision with his lawn a few hours before. 

"Just talk," he assured her, his eyes warm behind the black rims that framed his eyes. 

Pan nodded contentedly and dropped back against his chest. 

He laughed as he heard the knock on the door. 

"Go upstairs and get dressed," he ordered as the door opened and Trunks's head popped inside and called out "Hello?" 

"I _am_ dressed," she grumbled. "I'm wearing more then I did yesterday." 

"We're in here," Gohan called out, then looked back at the small black head that had attached itself to his shirt. 

"No you're not, Panny. Now go upstairs and get dressed." 

"I'm wearing _clothes_." 

"Panny, you might as well be in your underwear," he told her, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he talked to the back of her head. 

"No I'm not. And besides, I never hear you telling _Mom_ to go get dressed when she comes down stairs in shorts and a tank." 

"Pan," he said awkwardly, voice cracking slightly, "that's different. She's your mother and never really goes out in public dressed like that…" 

"Mom used to go to school dressed like this." 

"No she didn't Pan—" 

"Don't give me that. I've seen your yearbook," she teased, still talking into his white tee-shirt. 

Gohan laughed. 

"School was different. _Capsule Corps_ is—" 

"Look at him and tell me I'm not dressed accordingly," Pan snapping, lifting her arm and pointing at Trunks who stood in the doorway to the kitchen. 

Gohan turned his head and raised an eyebrow at the boy who stood there in baggy jeans and an old lime-green tee-shirt with _Capsule_ written across the front in cracking off-cream letters that had probably been white at the start of their existence. A black cloth-like belt held up the pants, the end hanging three or four inches below his belt line. The old sneakers were nothing new, but the rest was in total defiance of Bulma. 

Making eye contact with the boy, Gohan understood. He looked back down at his daughter's head. 

"He's expecting me to kill him and decided to die comfortably. _You_ have no excuse. Go get dressed." 

Pan grumbled inaudibly for a moment, then raised her voice for him to hear. "Yeah? Well, I'm expecting to have to _keep_ you from killing him." 

Gohan laughed again and grabbed his daughter's shoulders, pushing her fully upright and lifting her chin to look into her eyes, silently reminding her of his promise. 

"Go upstairs and get dressed." 

"Fine, but don't say anything when I come back down in _comfortable_ clothes." 

"You do that, Sweetheart," he laughed, watching as she trudged out of the room and up the stairs, dragging the wet white towel behind her like a child dragging a blanket. As soon as they heard the click of her door closing, her turned to Trunks, watching happily as the boy tried unsuccessfully not to squirm. 

A moment later, Gohan cracked a smile and watched the boy's face grow muddled with confusion. "I hate to disappoint you, Trunks, but I'm not going to kill you." He waited a moment for his words to sink in, then added, almost as an afterthought, "Today." 

Trunks just stared at him, watching in utter confusion until Gohan gave him the smile that no one could ever forget. Trunks shifted uncomfortably. 

"She told you?" 

"More then she wanted to, but yes. She told me." 

Trunks smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his head, then stuffed his hands back into his pockets, letting the hem of the tee-shirt bunch up on his wrists. 

"I guess I really owe her for saving my sorry ass." 

Gohan laughed. "Something like that." He paused, then smiled at the boy and motioned to the table. Trunks shied away from the offered chair and silently declined. "Although I am rather surprised you were actually willing to fight me a few hours ago." 

Trunks shrugged. 

"So was I," he confessed a moment later. 

Gohan laughed and pulled an extra coffee mug out of the cupboard and lifted the refilled coffeepot. He moved to pour the cup, but then paused and righted the pot, frowning at it. 

"You looked as surprised as I felt when she broke in on us." 

Trunks gingerly put fingers to the side of his head, feeling the soft and slightly swollen bruise that still made it hard for him to focus, and nodded. "I knew she'd try and stop us, but I wasn't expecting her to try and knock me unconscious," he admitted, looking at Gohan and blushing slightly. 

"If I'd yelled, I'd have been ignored. If I stood in the way, I'd have gotten my nose broken, and you deserved a decent whap," came the voice of the girl as she walked from behind him into the kitchen, walking towards her father and taking the coffee pot away from him right as he was about to dunk the mug into the top and pull out a cup. "Thanks, Daddy." 

"Pan, don't—no, Pan, don't—" He broke into unpleased growls and snarls as she lifted the pot to her lips and took a long swig. She stopped at the fridge, pouring cream and sugar into the pot, swirling the pot in her hand, and took another drink. "Pan, the first time it was cute and I wasn't going to say anything because I know you didn't sleep last night. But now you're trying my patience." 

"Start yourself a pan of water boiling, make coffee, and drink up," she replied, hopping up onto the tabletop, slightly spreading her legs and holding the pot in both hands between her knees as she leaned forward, elbows on her thighs, and smiled with a mischievous spark lighting her eyes. 

He looked back at her, noting the old jeans with the hole in the left knee and that she had to roll up twice at the bottom in order for her feet to be seen. He glared disapprovingly at the ratty (once but no longer) white canvas sneakers that she'd had since forever ago that he and Videl and tried to throw out more times then they'd try to make Goten sleep in his room. 

"Pan," he started, but she sat up, indicating that she'd tossed a light, white zippered sweatshirt over the tank. 

"I'm dressed Daddy. I told you not to start with me." 

"I'm talk about the sneakers." 

A look of confusion passed over her face, and then the statement registered, bringing on a different expression of confusion. "Yeah, I was meaning to ask why I found them in the garbage this morning." 

Gohan dropped his head against his chest, swore silently, then walked over and grabbed the coffee pot out of her hands, taking a drink himself. 

"Gohan!" 

He opened one eye and turned it towards the door where his mother stood, hands on hips, glaring at him with all the scorn a mother can muster towards her son. He swallowed and lowered the pot, hastily licking his lips. 

"Time to go to work!" Pan cried, jumping off the table and dashing between her grandmother and father to grab Trunks, turn him around and steer him towards the door, pausing only to kiss her grandmother on the cheek and throw her father a wink and a thumbs up. "Enjoy your coffee, Daddy!" 

Trunks laughed, opening the door and bowing deeply, motioning for her to pass through. Pan shook her head and started through, then paused as she noticed her uncle passed out on the couch, mouth wide open in a snore, one arm thrown over his eyes, the other dragging on the ground; one leg draped over the back of the couch, the other resting with his foot on the floor. 

"You'd think he didn't have a room," Pan laughed as Trunks shoved her out the door. 

"Or know what a bed is," Trunks laughed, knowing all too well that the dimensions of the Son's couch was not in proportion to the height of a full-grown male saiyan. He closed the door behind him, and watched as she nodded approvingly at the bike parked next to the walk, in the furrow that one of them had left a few hours earlier when Gohan had powered up. 

"Nice ride," she allowed, following him down the path to the bike, running her fingers along the orange motorcycle with the blue flames. 

Trunks merely shrugged, reaching into the storage compartment on the side. "My sister and mom meant to give it to you last Saturday at the end of the party as a welcome back gift, but," his voice hitched on the rest of the statement. He hesitated, looking back at her nervously, unsure of how much she'd forgiven his father. 

"But then Vegeta stepped in and told me to fuck off." She shrugged. "I've been thinking about that," she admitted, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jeans, slouching a little, shoulders rolled back—either from exhaustion or habit he couldn't tell. "I actually think I owe him. He has that way of his of knowing anything and everything that's going on, whether or not he's told, asks, or even studies his 'subjects'. I think he knew I was just as trashed as you that night, and that one conveniently placed word would throw me over." 

Trunks nodded. "Yeah, that's him. Hasn't changed in all the years anyone has known him—although he's finally stopped thirsting for world domination." He smirked as he recalled the night of the party. "Although I get the feeling he wasn't expecting you to land a blow and knock him through the wall." 

Pan laughed as he pulled her jean jacket out of the bag. 

"Here." 

She smiled, shrugging into it, pulling the hood of the white sweatshirt out to hang over the back. "How many times have I lost this thing in the past week?" 

"More times then your bandana?" he asked innocently. 

"Not hardly," she laughed, reaching into the pocket of the jacket and pulling the bandana out of it. 

Trunks laughed in turn as he mounted the bike, sitting up and waiting for her, watching as she stuffed the bandana into her back pocket, allowing a corner to hang out. "Anyways, since my car is still sitting in the Capsule Corps parking lot with no windshield, I figured, 'hey, take the bike.' It's yours Friday night. Until then, we're carpooling and I'm driving." 

Pan smiled at him as she climbed on behind him, wrapping her arms around his chest as he revved the engine and smirked back at her. 

"If I didn't know better," she called over the purring roar of the engine, her eyes sparkling, "I'd say you were the same age _I_ am!" 

His smirk deepened, and he took off without warning, leaning into the wind as he took a detour through the trees, jumping the fallen bodies he had taken out hours before when she had taken him down, zipping down deer trails and rabbit paths, splashing through the stream and making the bike fly. Behind him, Pan screamed ecstatically, laughing, one hand wrapped around him to secure her to the bike, the other thrown into the air in a fist as they roared down backroads towards the city. The same back roads that Bra had taken her down four days ago while stalling to start their shopping trip.

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A/N: _I know, everything sucks, yeah. I know, that everything suck, whoa-oh-oh. I know, everything sucks, yeah-this is gonna be the last time you hear me complain._

I have been introduced to the wonderful lyrics of Reel Big Fish. ;P 

So, now that you've read, please review! Not like I'll _know_ or anything, but still, eventually I'll get around to checking my reviews. Review por favor!

-Panabelle ;P  
[Shrine of the Saiyan Squirt][1] All submissions welcome.

   [1]: http://www.geocities.com/panabelle18



	55. Chapter 54: Scholar

Disclaimer: Do I really have to do this? I mean, really. Do I have to? I own nothing-for the love of cheez, _I DON'T EVEN HAVE MY DRIVER'S LICENSE!!!_ How in the name of cheez could I own DB/Z/GT if I can't even drive?! Huh? 

A/N: I've been gone for a while, no? Sorry y'all. I don't think I need to explain myself, I mean...school, sleep, starve...school, sleep, dream of dinner...I can't even find time to eat, when do I write? 

And for the last time: _I'm not fond of Micky D's!!!!_ I just like smiles. Although I _do_ like reviews... ;P

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Petrified Tears  
chapter 54

  
  


Goten mentally kicked himself as the door closed, rolling over onto his side until he balanced precariously on the edge of the too-small couch, the voice of his best friend echoing in his head. 

Ignoring the rantings of his mother as she chewed out his older brother, and laughing quietly as he heard the coffeepot shatter, his brother whimper, and the clang of the almighty frying pan; he winced at the bell-like toll, just the sound of the mighty weapon wielded by his mother enough to register painful memories and make his head ring. It never really hurt, though, when she whacked him, his brother, or (when he was around) his father—they all had incredibly hard heads. 

Goten peeked open one eye as he heard his mother storm back upstairs, muttering about coffee stains on her dress, but more importantly, as he heard the engine rev outside. He watched as Trunks smirked at his niece, at the excited fear that raced into her eyes at the many prospects that that smirk could hold. The bike took off with a thrilled and surprised cry from Pan, and soon the orange and blue motorcycle took off into the trees, followed by a blur of black that made Goten close his eyes, the blurred image too close to that of his father every time he had left; the simple flash of orange with traces of blue, the lingering image of black hair and the smile that could haunt one forever, reminding one of all that is good and all that is worth living for—that all that is worth living for, is worth dying for, if there ever be the need. 

He heard his brother enter the living room, watching as his daughter disappeared with the son of their belated father's old rival. 

Goten's best friend. 

He forced a half-hearted half-smile. He hadn't abandoned Trunks, or at least hadn't meant to. He'd merely been unable to explain himself and had left to go find the right words, and still hadn't found them. Trunks had assumed he was being left behind in the dust. But the truth of the matter was, Goten was willing and waiting to jump at the chance to go barhopping or go spar. But Trunks never offered it. And so he had decided merely to stay in the background; let Trunks figure it out on his own and not allow his own feeling towards the little quarter saiyan get in the way. 

Truth of the matter was, though, that it killed him to do so. The previous morning had been hell, as he and his best friend had stood at the end of the walk, each afraid to saying anything, only allowing tentative and brief eye contact. Both had been petrified that they'd have to fuse together—anything strong enough to push Gohan so far so fast wasn't to be messed around with by not-so-very powerful warriors. Thank Dende it hadn't been needed, but that awkwardness was almost more unbearable then not knowing what was going on. 

He knew what he had done that night four years ago; that he had combined everything into one ball of misery—the ball of misery that Pan had been before she'd left!—and hurled it at his best friend. He'd done it because, even though Pan's reasons had all been separate and individual, they had been grotesquely molded into one wretched form over so many years, starting with the disappearance of her grandfather…his father. 

She'd been so close to showing the world, her friends, what she was like under everything with Goku there to watch over her, protect her against her own doubts and fears of rejection with his naïve innocence and ingenious talents to cheer. But then he had left them all. 

And had left her floundering without a hope of surfacing, only to drown back beneath the layers that had smothered her for so long. Goten had tried so hard to make it easier for her, being there for her as his father had been, but it was hard for her to accept him. Almost unconsciously he had grown his hair after his father's disappearance, some small part of him trying to keep his father's image alive as he had unwittingly done as a child. 

Hardly anyone noticed that he had done so, although subconsciously they all knew, and all were on some level comforted by his appearance, but Pan had drawn away from him, refusing to be anywhere where she could see him, hear him, or be reminded by him. She drew away from him, and she drew away from Trunks, remaining in close contact, but her heart just wasn't in it anymore. 

Goten and Trunks had both understood, and had taken the opportunity of reestablishing the brotherly bond they'd had as children, Goten respecting Pan and keeping his distance. But when she had locked herself in her room for over a week towards the end of high school, refusing to come out—even to eat!—Gohan and Trunks had forced Goten to sneak through her window and console her, and ever since, he'd just been Goten, the odd uncle who happened to look, think, and act like his father, but didn't fight like him. 

Until, that is, she told him part of why she was leaving. 

_Grandpa haunts me, Uncle Goten. I know if he ever heard me saying that he come whap me a good one, but he does. I…it's like I can't get over the fact that he's really gone—for good. I…I know he's died…a lot…but…_I_ was never around when he did. And…I hate to admit it…but you aren't helping._

And he had understood, completely. He had told her so too, and she had broken down, confessing everything. And Goten had nearly wept with her on finally knowing just how much she had suffered, by her own doings or by others', and though he hadn't wanted to see her go, he'd given her his blessings, and flown to California with her to make sure she was alright over there. She wasn't (but had put on a brave face for him), and in her first month had nearly gone running home more times then he was willing to count. But he had let her be, never letting her know that he was there, checking up on her, flying over there every chance he got, between work and everything else. 

Goten yawned, coming back to the present as the eddies of the motorcycle engine faded into oblivion. 

"'Bout time he figure it out," he mumbled into the arm of the couch. "Only took him four years." 

"Goten, what the hell are you talking about?" came the bewildered voice of his brother. 

Opening one onxy eye and rolling it back to meet his brother's gaze, Goten smiled up at him. 

"You've got to be blind if you haven't figured out that she's let him in on her secret," he laughed. As Gohan started, Goten laughed so hard he fell off the couch. "Come on! One would think _you'd_ know and that _I'd_ be clueless, Gohan! You're the scholar, I'm the idiot little brother!" As Gohan continued to stare at him, bewildered beyond all imagination, Goten staggered to his feet through his laughter, grabbing his brother and shoving him into a sitting position on the couch. 

"Explain," the older commanded. 

Goten shook his head and settled himself in front of his brother, sitting very Piccolo-like on the air. 

"Gohan, we both know that Pan is more of a girl then she let's on to (even now), but that Vegeta and Piccolo and everyone else found it a little easier to accept her as a tomboy then a blood-thirsty little girl—" 

"_My daughter is _not_ blood-thirsty!_" Gohan roared, his eyes wild with anger. 

Goten held up his hands as if to ward off attack. 

"And _we aren't_ blood-thirsty? Hell, Gohan, you tried to kill Trunks a few hours ago! And if she hadn't stopped you, you would have! Mercilessly and enjoying every minute of it!" 

Gohan grew quiet. 

"We're blood-thirsty by nature, it's that simple. But because Bra nor Marron fight, and Pan did and does, they just tossed her under the category of tomboy and left her there. Which is why she went to California, to get away from that." 

Gohan growled, disgruntled, but acknowledged the truth of his brother's statement. 

"Well, think about it. She hasn't really been on terms with Trunks since Dad left. He kinda ditched her to spend time with me again, and she ditched him to hole up in her room and to throw herself into school; they didn't have the ability to read each other that they used to before she left. All of a sudden, she comes back, and, wow! Every time I try and grab her for an afternoon or an hour, she's off with Trunks, happy as can be, and attempting to spend time with us, but unable to because of Bulma. The last time she was this happy for this long was right before Dad disappeared. Which leaves the explanation that she's really over it. And that she's trusted him with her secret—who she really is." 

Gohan stared at him in shock, his face paling, his body going rigid. 

"What? Did you think something else? Gohan, what did you—" Goten broke off into howling laughter, falling out of the air to roll on his back. "Gohan! You thought—you—you thought—" Gasping for air, eyes bulging, Goten labored himself into a sitting position through his laughter. "You—you thought—thought that they—that he—or that she—gah!" 

Gohan stood up and growled down at his kid brother. "Yes, I thought _that_, Goten. Can you blame me? All of a sudden all she's doing is falling in or out with the guy she used to think herself so fervently in love with. _Who's fourteen years older then her!_ What the hell else am I supposed to think? That it's just a difference of opinion?!" 

"Yes, considering that's exactly what it is!" Goten yelled back, his eyes wide with suppressed laughter. "And what are you talking about, 'used to think'. She _was_, Gohan, and no matter what you do about it, she _is_. Although I'm pretty sure he doesn't return her feelings. And even if he did, he's too terrified of you and she's too scared of losing his friendship to say anything." 

Gohan snarled and sank down. 

"Goten, she's my daughter. I can't help but wor—" 

"What, did you think they were romantically involved and that they're—" His eyes got bigger as his brother cut him off. 

"Do you really need me to answer that?" Gohan growled, slouching back into the couch. He glared at his brother, warning him not laugh. Goten bit his tongue. 

"But why would you—" 

"He's too chummy with her. I don't like it." 

Goten shook his head, steering the conversation down a seemingly obscure tangent. 

"Did it ever occur to you that Trunks wears a mask just like she does?" 

Gohan started at him. 

"He does. Deep down, Pan is girlish and sensitive. Trunks has the same thing going on," Goten faltered. "Only he isn't gay. Nor a drag queen." 

Gohan grinned, and Goten joined him in creating an image of the purple-haired son of Vegeta strutting around in pumps, a mini-skirt, and one of his sister's halter tops, wearing lipstick and mascara, his hair in two pigtails sticking off the top of his head. 

Both shuddered simultaneously, the image too disturbing and far too easy to visualize. 

"Ok…um…" Gohan muttered, but Goten recovered first. 

"Uh…well, leave it at he's more sensitive then he lets on to, more human then he'd admit to being. Not to mention a bigger goofball then we are. I mean, for Dende's sake, Gohan!, the guy keeps a _teddy bear_ in his desk and talks to a sock. But like I said, he's not gay…" Goten paused, his hair hanging down around his face. Shaped exactly like his father's had always been, his hair drooped more, and he was glad that it did. He batted a chunk out of his eyes. "But Vegeta'd kill him if he knew Trunks is anywhere near as sensitive as he really is. Really, could you see Vegeta's face upon learning that his son still sleeps with his security blanket and doesn't like to be alone in the dark?" 

Gohan relaxed back against the couch. 

"Goten, I can understand knowing about Panny," he said thoughtfully, after a few moments of silent consideration, "but what about Trunks? How did you learn all of this? And how do you know it's still true? Seems you two haven't talked in years." 

"We haven't. But I was his best friend for thirty-three years, up until he assumed I abandoned him. As soon as you gain his trust like I did, or Panny has, and he's like an open book. And he's too terrified of change." 

Gohan nodded, and Goten could see his mind turning. He had to admit, he'd always envied his brother's brains and scholarly intuition, but as he watched his brother's mind turn in circles that the older half-saiyan had never known existed, the shock of different outcomes showing painfully in his eyes, Goten had to admit that while being a scholar had it's advantages, this wasn't one of them. 

"Tell me, Goten," Gohan said a moment later. "When did you get so smart?" 

Goten cracked the famous family smile, holding his feet together in one hand as he sat on the floor, scratching the back of his hand with the other. 

"I have no idea! I guess you're just wearing off on me!" They both shared a well-needed laugh, but the laughter died when Goten suggested moving back in.

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A/N: 'Nother chapter comin' up! Review por favor!

-Panabelle ;P  
[Shrine of the Saiyan Squirt][1]

   [1]: http://www.geocities.com/panabelle18/



	56. Chapter 55: Petrified Tears

Disclaimer: Jack is mine. Hands off. 

A/N: For those of you with great memories like mine (ok, mine ain't so great, :P thpp.), you'll remember me mentioning how I wasn't fond of the title _Petrified Tears_, and how I was going to change it. I ain't never gonna change it now. This chapter only proves that my mind works faster then I can even dream. (Or type for that matter, and I can type _fast_.) It seems kinda monotonous at first, I'm sure. But you'll understand what it's building to, if not by the end of this chapter, then by the end of the next few. 

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Petrified Tears  
chapter 55

  
  


"I don't care how old you are. You're the same age I am." 

Trunks laughed as they drove down the scenic route, taking their time now as they followed the old highway through the forest that lead to the city. "I don't think I follow that." 

Pan laughed, resting her cheek against the side of his shoulder, enjoying herself as they cruised down the road. "When I was little, before I started school and before Grandma ChiChi went crazy with my education, you and Uncle Goten would take me almost everywhere with you. The only place you didn't take me was on dates." 

Trunks laughed. "Not true and you know it." 

She hesitated, then laughed, remembering the incident involving Trunks and Goten's senior prom, when they had been desperate to go but had been stuck baby-sitting her. They had talked her into one of Bra's dresses, and taken her as their joint date, renting a limo and going to dinner, the whole thing. They'd been stared at like they were crazy as soon as they'd entered the dance, and had lived it up by fighting over who got to have the first dance with her. Marron, who'd been a freshman at the time, had been Goten's _official_ date, since she and Trunks were on the rocks again, had played along by pretending that Pan was her kid sister. It had ended with Goten getting an angry call on his cellphone from Gohan, after which Trunks and Goten and Marron departed the prom two hours before it was to end, and dropping off their "date", the two high school seniors gathered her in a hug between them and tag-teamed her with a kiss to each cheek. Both had suffered terribly the next morning at Gohan's wrath, but all had admitted it was completely worth it. 

"Ok, so maybe you did take me everywhere," she chuckled, smiling at the memory. "But that's not what I'm getting at. What I'm getting at is that you and Uncle Goten treated me like a little sister when I was little, looking out for me, taunting and teasing me, doing whatever you could to make me laugh or to scream. And you _still_ do that, you just don't treat me like a little sister anymore." 

Trunks smirked into the wind, seeing the skyline of the cityscape up ahead, part of him wishing that he could just veer down a side road and keep driving all day, following the arc of the sun until it brought them back to Pan's house. And while he knew Pan was all for it, he knew that Gohan's conclusions would prove his death warrant. He was on borrowed time with the older half saiyan as it was. Not to mention his mother would catch on and kill him and Pan. 

As if he wasn't already in for an earful about his choice of clothing that morning. 

"Yeah, you're going to explain that sister thing to me sometime today," he called over his shoulder, slowing the bike to take the off-ramp from the old scenic highway into the city. 

"Sure, but it'll have to wait until tonight, before you drop me off at home. It's not something I want one of Bulma's lackeys walking in on." 

He nodded. "So long as you tell me." 

She smiled, the memory of being a four year old prom date lingering in her heart. Marron had taken a picture of Goten and Trunks tag-teaming her, and she still had it hanging on her wall, both boys pale from trying not to laugh, Pan as red as the borrowed dress as they both pressed a kiss to one of her cheeks, their arms crossing over each other as they held her up, each holding a side as they let her sit on the "throne" of their crossed arms behind her. 

The smile faltered as something tugged at the back of her mind, and she frowned, trying to grab ahold of the little nagging inkling, wondering why the memory had triggered it. 

"Pan?" Trunks called back as he slowed to a stop in traffic, her sudden silence worrying him. _There's no way we'll make it to the office on time_, he thought, looking down the boulevard at the thousands of red lights and the traffic that was backed up at every one of them. 

"Yeah?" 

"What's on your mind?" 

"Nothing," she replied absently, standing up and holding his shoulder for support, looking at the traffic with a scowl. "Trunks, when the light turns green, just drive along side the other drivers. We'll get to the office on time, and besides, it's perfectly legal. Molly, Jack and I did it all the time in Cali." 

Trunks looked up at her, reaching up and sweeping her windblown hair out of her eyes. "That's because it's legal in California, Pan. Not here." 

She blushed, sitting down as the light turned green and they inched forward. "Oh, yeah. Forgot." 

He laughed, but his mind was whirling. 

_I'm going back to California with summer's end… I have a guy friend out there who I'm close to…who understands enough to accept me…_

"Pan?" 

"Yeah? What is it?" 

"Who's Molly? And Jack?" 

"Oh…Molly and Jack." She paused, thinking quietly, her mind still trying to capture the little twig of memory that was poking the back of her brain. "I told you about them, remember?" 

"I vaguely remember something about Molly," he agreed, "but not very clearly. And I have no memory of you ever mentioning a guy named Jack." 

"Molly? '_The Revenge of PanKake Girl_'?" she prodded. Trunks admitted that it sounded a little familiar. "Molly was my roommate back at college after I moved from the dorms into the frat house. She's pretty quirky. You and Uncle Goten would like her. She played therapist for me over there, and I taught her the basics of fighting. Tell you one thing, for a purebred human, she can punch." 

Trunks nodded, resisting the urge to point out the fact that Pan was more human then she was Saiyan, so that might have been the reason she felt Molly could punch, but knew better. He didn't feel like getting sucker-punched in the kidneys. 

"Explain that pancake thing to me again?" 

She laughed. "Molly's quirky. She doesn't sleep either. Every night at eleven pm or so, she'd dig out her camcorder and we'd either film the other's in the house while they slept, or would sneak down to the kitchen, and we'd do odd things with food, pretend we had a cooking show or something. Most of the time, action figures would be involved. She waited until eleven, only because that was when the house was dead, everyone either out partying, out studying, or just out. The first time I realized she even had a camcorder was when I was making myself a midnight snack and sensed her sneaking up on me from the hall. 

"After she'd finally seen my raw and inherited eating habits, she blackmailed me into being her partner in crime. So she'd film and come up with the quote-unquote scripts (that we never bothered to read), and I'd manipulate the action figures to harass our sleeping housemates, both of us supplying the voices. 

"A couple weeks later, we were out in one of the state parks where I worked, in one of the little-known meadows near a cliff with a spectacular view of the Pacific. She lost her balance and her concentration and put too much effort into hitting me, that when I dodged, she kinda…went over the cliff. Without a second thought, I dove down after her, grabbed her by the back of her shirt and flew back up to the top of the cliff with her. Upon learning that I could manipulate object with ki (and since I wasn't dumb enough to teach her how), our little home 'movies' got a little more interesting, because there were no longer any jerky starts and stops, nor was there this huge hand moving the action figure." 

"Seems like a pretty long explanation to me," Trunks laughed as they finally crossed the first intersection and got back in line for the next. "So when do you actually get to the pancake thing?" 

"Just a little background, that's all. Anyways, her nickname for me was PanKake, because I refuse to let her know that my actual nickname is Panny. I'll let people who have known me forever get away with it. But drinking buddies and partners in crime? No. Anyways, after a bout with the 'popular' crowd who had grown up around there and that were always giving me hell in all of my classes, she got this idea. She'd gone home the next weekend and stole about three Barbies and four G.I. Joes from her little brother, and came back with this plan for me to extract my revenge on the 'crew' (as they called themselves) on the dolls. Basically, it's seven little eight-inch-tall dolls against me, and they're winning until I (as Molly put it in 'the script') 'whip out my mad cooking skills and turn them into pancakes'. It ended with me pouring maple syrup on the pancakes, each one with a fried and slightly grilled doll embedded in each, because there way no way she was going to get me to eat those things." 

Trunks laughed, pulling forward again, looking down at his watch. 

_Hey, if things keep up like this, maybe we'll get there just in time._

"So who's this Jack dude?" he asked, feeling some sort of objection to her having socialized with other guys. 

"Jack? Jack was the guy who's dad owned the tattoo parlor." 

"Huh?" Trunks mumbled as the light turned red, turning around and looking back at her. 

Pan laughed, shrugging the jacket and sweatshirt off of her right shoulder, rolling the shoulder forward for him to see the tattoo that her father had nearly crapped his pants upon seeing. 

"Jack was the first real friend I made over there, and the entire reason I survived, not to mention move into the frat house." 

"Survived?" 

Pan covered her shoulder back up, nodding ahead at the now green light, leaning forward against his back, her mind still grasping at the niggling little nag, her brain trying to stay awake. 

"Remember me telling my dad that I was lost my first few weeks over there, that I'd been really depressed and all?" 

"Yeah. Kinda, actually. I think I was busy trying to avoid my mother's concern and my father's temper at the time, but yeah. I remember." 

She laughed. "Well, Jack's room was right across from mine in the dorms. _My_ roommate (who I couldn't stand at all), was banging _his_ every chance she got, so four nights out of six she was in their room, leaving him with a pillow and a change of clothes in the hall, and the other two nights he was in ours, and I was left to go downstairs and sleep in the cafeteria." 

"But there are seven days in a week. What about the other night?" 

"She was highly religious—her father was Mormon and her mother was Catholic. Sunday's the day of rest in both religions." 

Trunks nearly fell off the bike at the explanation he was laughing so hard. 

"Well, that's the only explanation that Jack and I could come up with. I mean, she _did_ go to the Mormon church every Sunday morning with her father, and then to Catholic mass every Sunday evening with her mother." 

Regaining his composure, Trunks rolled the bike forward. 

"Not the point though. On my second week there, after I'd discovered that I had the room to myself four nights a week, shared it one, and was in the cafeteria or the campus library the other two, I got back late and found this blond kid with glasses lying on his back in the hallway, staring dejectedly up at the ceiling. After asking him what he was doing out there, I discovered he was the roommate of _my_ roommate's obsession, and I invited him in to crash on the couch. He was in my psych class at the time, and so we basically stayed up all night badmouthing the whores (as was his nickname for them) across the hall and studying for a test the next day. A few days later, he discovered me sleeping on a table in the cafeteria. After that, he and I each gave each other our spare key and made a pact that whoever wasn't homeless at night had to house the other. 

"He was just as depressed as I was at the time because he'd caught his girlfriend cheating on him, and we grew really close. Things got awkward sometimes, but he'd usually just say some random off the wall thing that would make absolutely no sense to anyone who hadn't grown up around Uncle Goten, and we'd changed the subject, and things would be fine. He was the only soul over there who I took flying with me when I couldn't stand to stay on the ground any longer, and he was sacred enough to me to trust with the history of _every_thing; Grandpa, Vegeta, fighting, Marron, Bra, you, Uncle Goten, the dragonballs, _ev_erything. Everything I'd locked up inside and refused to think about. He was the one who told me to forget, but to still remember. It took me about a week to figure out what he'd meant. He and I both worked at the same park, and one day after work, he and I lay out in the field where Molly and I would eventually train, and I found the star I can't help but believe is Grandpa Goku. That's when it came to me. He told me about his father's tattoo parlor, and how for his eighteenth birthday, he was going to get a chicken tattooed on his butt. I told him I wouldn't mind getting a tattoo but was terrified of needles, and he explained that if I ever wanted to, he'd get his dad to do it, and then went on to explain how clean his dad's parlor was and everything." 

Pan paused as Trunks revved the engine out of boredom. They hadn't moved in about five minutes, and they were late for work for sure. He looked back at her. "Then how did you get the tattoo? I'd completely forgotten your fear of needles." 

She laughed. "Jack's birthday was two days later as I found out, and he invited me to go out drinking with him and Molly that night, since Molly is three years older then either of us, and we could legally go into the bar and she'd buy our drinks for us. (Which is how I met her by the ways.) Anyways, I got drunk off my rocker (for the second time in my life), and told Jack that I wanted that tattoo, and that before the buzz wore off was the only time I'd be sedated enough to get it. He nodded and Molly and I went down to the shop his dad owned. His dad was surprised that his son trusted my judgment enough to allow me to get a tattoo, and to pay for it himself, that he didn't even ask when I drew him the sketch of what I wanted, and just tattooed it on." 

Trunks nodded, ears red at the comment of her being drunk. "Figured it was something like that." Dejectedly, he leaned forward, crossing his arms on the front of the bike, shifting his position until Pan's form rested in the small of his back, her face in the small between his shoulder blades. 

"Took me a few days to forget, but remembering was easy. After that, life was looking up for me because I'd felt like I'd finally found myself. I helped Jack get back on his feet, and he helped me show myself to the world. I owe him everything." 

"He's the guy, isn't he." 

Pan sat up at the venom in his voice, as his entire body stiffened beneath her. 

"What guy? Trunks, what's wrong?" 

He shook his head. "Monday, when you broke down, you told me that when summer ends next weekend, you're going back to California. For good. Because there was some guy out there that understands you enough to accept you," he growled, eyes piercing the back of the white freight trunk ahead of them. 

"Ye…yeah. Jack's the guy. But, Trunks, I didn't mean it like _that_," she protested, sensing his protectiveness over her—the same protectiveness that hadn't wanted her to go to California, and that had looked after her their entire year in space—flicker into possessionism. The only other time she'd known him to get possessive over her was when the one time she'd dared date seriously in high school, and the guy had tried to get down her pants without her consent. Trunks and Goten had felt the unreasonable panic in her ki and had come to her rescue, beating the guy within inches of his life while Gohan had held her against what the guy had tried to do. 

"He's a really good friend, who told me I could come live with him if things didn't work out back here. He understands that even though I could really care less about what the world thinks of me, being respected among the people who I'd grown up with is still a necessity. He had the same problem with his parents, and they _didn't_ accept him; he hasn't spoken to them since he got that chicken tattoo. He can also read the dark and twisted depths of my soul without me saying a word. He and I both moved into the frat house after our first year of college because we could no longer stand 'the whores', and if I came home from work or from school, he could tell exactly what kind of mood I was in before I'd even gotten in the front door. It's weird though; he can't read ki for the life of him, yet he can read me well enough that it's almost as if he can." 

Trunks nodded stiffly. 

The nagging in the back of her mind got stronger, and her mental hands grasped it and ripped it into her mind's eye. Part of her dream registered, and Pan couldn't help but realize that it was the same dream she'd had that night on the beach after they had kissed. 

"Pan?" Trunks said quietly as the traffic began to clear out and he was able to drive down the streets freely. "Pan…are you going back?" 

"Huh?" she mumbled distractedly, her eyes full of everything she'd dreamed, and everything that had happened that night a few days in the past. 

"You said that you'd go back to California if things didn't work out," he explained, his voice quiet. "Are you going back?" 

"Huh? Oh…I don't know yet. It depends on how Bra's party goes. Right now, yeah, I might stay, if I can find a job that doesn't drive me insane. But there's still a week left. And the only people to accept who I am right now are you, Grandma, and my parents. Bra's gotten the hang of me, but is still pissed at me for slapping her last weekend. If Bulma would stop harping to me about you having kids, I might actually stay regardless of what everyone else thinks." 

Trunks laughed, his bitter possessiveness fading away. "She harps to _you_ about _that_?" 

"Yep. I think she's trying to hint to me that 'you're single', 'I'm single', 'we're both saiyan' (partly or mostly), and that 'she really wants to be a grandmother'." 

Trunks laughed at his mother's blatant subliminal messages. 

"She gave up with trying to talk me into finding a wife a few years ago. I'm happy, that's all that matters as far as I'm concerned. And seeing as how Father hasn't aged at all, and is still as active as he was when everyone learned he existed, I probably have another twenty years (judging by your father's aging) until my face starts to show any wear." 

Pan laughed at the hint of conceit and vanity in the statement. 

"The last time she tried with me was in the limo…and uh…well…I think she's given up all hope of me settling down in her lifetime." 

"Yeah well, she's trying to talk me into offering to bear your children. Every time you disappear into the bathroom or for a conference or to go out and get food or whatever, she magically appears and starts telling me that she's not getting any younger and how I should talk you into finding a wife." 

Trunks laughed. 

Pan would have, but her mind was turning back to the nagging that was no longer a nagging sensation in the back of her head, but now a plague over her mind. 

"Pan? What's wrong?" 

She smiled into his shoulder, shifting to rest her cheek against the side of it, the wind tossing her hair and his, whipping around them. 

"Nothing. I'm just thinking about a dream I had last night…actually, this morning…" 

He glanced back at her as they cruised down the boulevard, slowing to a stop at the next red light. 

"Want to talk about it?" 

She shook her head, looking up to meet his eyes for a moment, noticing how blue they were. They weren't back to their normal color, but they were still blue, especially when compared to the near blackness they'd been a few days before. 

"It's nothing important. I'm just trying to remember how it ended, that's all." 

He smiled as the light turned green and he pulled into the intersection, turning right towards the Capsule Corps high rise. 

"You know, it's pretty cliché, but dreams are usually subconscious wishes," he told her, the wind pushing his hair back from his eyes, pressing the old tee-shirt across his chest. 

"Thank you, Cinderella," she laughed quietly. She grew quiet again, and when she next spoke, she didn't address his statement, but didn't stray far from the topic. 

"You know that gunk in the corners of your eyes that's there when you wake up?" 

"Sleep? Yeah." 

"Well…have you ever really noticed that whenever you have an impossible dream, whether or not you can remember it, there always seems to be more of it?" 

Trunks considered this for a moment, then nodded uncertainly. "Sometimes, yeah." 

Pan got quiet, then smiled privately to herself. 

"It's not 'sleep' that's in your eyes. It's really tears—petrified tears cried over impossible dreams, impossible wishes. Dreams and wishes that you know can never come true," she whispered. "You can't cry them because you're not awake, and you don't know that you're crying. But they have to come out. So they become petrified, fossilized, and gather in your eyes, where they blind you from the hopelessness of reality so that you won't stop dreaming those dreams, or wishing those wishes. When they're wiped away, they fall and become sand, one grain of sand for every impossible dream and hopeless wish, and the dream fades into a restless and half remembered memory." 

Trunks parked the motorcycle and climbed off the seat, turning and facing her with wonder and solemnity as she swung both legs onto one side. 

"I haven't heard that before." 

"I've never told anyone that before." 

He smiled, slipping his hand beneath the curtain of her hair, sliding his fingers between the strands and against her scalp. "But you're wrong, I think." 

She blinked, looked up at him with startled wonder. 

"How? I—I don't understand." 

"Maybe, they're not petrified because the dream is an impossible wish," he whispered, tilting her head up to look at him, smiling down at her. "Maybe they're petrified because the dream is so beautiful that the dreamer can't believe it possible. And when they turn to sand, they're not there to remind the world of the fruitlessness of dreaming, because without dreams, there is no hope. And without hope, happiness can't exist, and no one is ever really alive. Maybe, just _may_be, they turn to sand so that they can show the world just how beautiful one single person can be, no matter how ugly they are on the outside; that they can show just how many beautiful and wonderful dreams that there have been in the world, no matter how hopeless they really seem." 

Pan blinked back tears at his words, lowering her face, determined not to let him see her cry. His thumb glissed across her cheek, smudging away a tear, lifting her face again so that he could look into her eyes. 

"Never give up on your dreams, Panny. Because no matter how dark the world can be, no matter how dismal or dreary, they light up the darkness. Because when the world turns its back on you, they'll still be there for you, until you turn your back on them, giving yourself up to the monotony of it all and the nightmares that lurk in the shadows that those dreams keep at bay. Dreams are _hope_, Panny. And without hope, what purpose is there in living?" 

Her eyes clouded over, and she threw herself into him, clinging to him, sobbing silently. His arms gathered her to him, and he murmured into her hair, soothing her even though they were already half an hour late. 

"No dream is hopeless, Panny. Real tears fall and fade away forever, joining the oceans and rivers into one writhing mass that eats away at the world. But petrified tears stay forever, for all the world to see, each tear individual of all the others, for any one person to stumble upon and pick up, and cherish forever."

***********************  
A/N: Well? I'd love to know what you guys think about the whole thing about dreams and tears; have I hit something, or am I just insane? Anyways, I need to be going now. Sorry this took so long to post, it'll be a while before any more chapters come too. 

-Panabelle ;P  
[Shrine of the Saiyan Squirt][1]

   [1]: www.geocities.com/panabelle18/



	57. Chapter 56: Little Girl Lost

Disclaimer: Chibi Trunks asked me to marry him. But I can't! He's only 8 years old and I'm almost 18! *sniff sniff* He's jailbait! Waaaahhh! 

A/N: No, none of you can marry him. His plastic little booty is _mine_. Anyhoo, sorry about that. And I'm sorry about the wait for this chapter. I've been really busy lately. High school, college classes, and homecoming plus homework and an attempt at a social life take up all my time. Oh, yeah, I'm a canidate for my school's homecoming queen this year. Which means that updates are gonna be even _more_ dragged out. But yeah, I finally got around to writing. 

I hope y'all like this chapter, it took me a while to write because I just couldn't get it to fit with the past chapters. On a side note, "Launch" (Lunch) kicks ass, I'm madly in love with Gohan and the Great Saiyaman, and Videl is my role model. 

Read, enjoy, review.

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Petrified Tears  
chapter 56

  
  


Gohan drummed his fingers on his desk as he waited for someone to pick up the phone. It'd rung about twelve times already, and was still ringing. He sighed and leaned back in the chair as he shifted the receiver into the hollow of his shoulder, using both hands to reach over the ancient tome in front of him, his fingers closing around the frame beneath his green and gold desk lamp. 

"Come on, pick up," he sighed as he counted the twenty-third ring. Holding the frame in front of him, he smiled down at the picture of his daughter and his father as they lay in the grass, smiling up at the clouds in the sky, his daughter's fourteen year old face bright and cheerful as she held one hand behind her head, the other hand pointing up at some distant star or cloud. On her left, his father lay in the grass, his tiny form spread eagle on the ground, stubby arms and stubby legs forming a star with his head, his face in a great grin at something that his granddaughter had said. Gohan smiled, gingerly drawing his thumb across the glass over his daughter's face. 

_Thirty-one…thirty-two…thirty-thr—_

"Hello? Capsule Corps, Pan speaking; sorry for the delay in accepting your call. Mr. Briefs is in the middle of a presidential crisis at the moment, so I'm afraid he'll have to call you back. If you have any idea of what today has been like, you'll pretend you never called. If this is an emergency, you should scream very loudly because I'm now hanging up," came the hoarse and hurried voice of his daughter. Moans and whimpers sounded in the background. 

"Pan! Wait!" Gohan cried, jumping up and leaning forward in the chair, leaning half on his desk, gripping the phone in one hand, the frame gently in the other. He busied himself with mental throttlings as he told himself that his daughter's voice was not hoarse with passion, that he had _not_ called in the middle of…of… "It's your father! Don't hang up!" 

"Daddy!" Pan cried, her voice cracking. Her voice verged on panicked hysteria; in the background the moans and whimpers ceased and turned into a nervous laugh that rose into a cackle. 

"Pan, what's going on?" 

"Daddy—ih…it's kind of a…uh…a _bad_ time…right now…um, could…could you…" She trailed off, discretely coughing. The cackling became muffled. 

"Pan…" he was cut off by a quiet squawk and a muffled thud. His mind immediately fell into the gutter, terrible images flashing before his eyes no matter how hard he tried to stop them. 

"_Shh, shh, it's ok. Just calm down. Shh…_" 

"_Pan-Pan…_" 

"_Shh. It's ok. I'll be off the phone in a minute._" 

"_A minute's too long!_" 

"Sorry Daddy, this is _really_ a bad time. Trunks is kind of…um…well, he's…under a lot of pressure right now," Pan said, turning back to the phone. Her voice was still hoarse, but calm and steady now, as if she were talking to a child who'd walked in on his parents. 

Which was exactly what Gohan felt like. 

"_Panny…hurry!_" 

Whimpering sounded in the background, and he heard his daughter turn to soothe. Gohan forced himself to set down the frame, afraid he'd crack it. Clenching his eyes and clenching his teeth, he tuned out the background noise. Stray giggles and grunts and groans still reached him. Pan swore-pain or anger or…or…her emotions didn't reach him through the mental shield. 

"Pan," he whispered, his voice tight. "Pan, what's—" 

"Sorry Daddy. It's been a long day and Trunks and I have…" she paused and swore under her breath. "…something that needs to be taken care of before we have a…uh…situation." She grunted, or groaned, he wasn't sure. His hand tightened on the receiver, his mind seeking out their kis without the permission of his will. He sensed his daughter holding Trunks's head to her chest. The receiver cracked under the pressure of his knuckles. 

"Pan…" 

"Daddy, did something break?" 

"No." 

He forced his eyes open, tears flooding them. Desperately, he attempted to tell himself that she was just stressed and overworked with too little sleep, and that Trunks was just having another of his biweekly breakdowns. Nothing was happening, he hadn't called at a crucial moment. She was just…comforting…him…. 

"Daddy? I _really_ need to get off the phone. We need to finish, and then Bulma needs us to go over the details with her." 

"Details?" Gohan choked out, his face falling blank, sweat trickling down his temple. 

Pan gave a half strangled gasp and stumbled to recover, through his shield against distracting noises, he heard Trunks start hyperventilating. 

"_Pan! No! She's not…_he's_ not…_no one_ is supposed to…no! Pan!_" 

"_Shh…sorry…sorry…it slipped._" 

"Nuh…no, Daddy. Sorry, I think I gave you the wrong impression. She gave us the plans to a project this morning that we need to go over and talk to her about…but we got dis…tracted. Um, Daddy, I _really_ need to go…" 

Gohan forced himself to calm down. Trunks was just breaking down again…he did so almost weekly. He liked to delude himself that the rest of the world didn't know. He wanted to keep it that way…that was all… 

"Pan, I just wanted to know if you'd like to go to lunch with me. I know you're busy with deadlines and…things…but if I could come by and pick you up? I haven't seen much of you and would like to—" 

"_Dammit Pan! Tell Gohan you'll call him back! Fuck, I'll tell him myself!_" 

"LovetoDaddy,really,butIreallyneedtobegoing!" 

Gohan blinked, his daughter's words one jumbled mass echoing in his mind. 

"Pa…Panny?" 

"Sorry. I'd love to go to lunch, Daddy, but now is _really_ bad timing. We need to get these blueprints figured out, Bulma no doubt has a thousand _more_ things for us to do before she lets us out of this damned cage, not to mention what's currently going on. Besides, any spare time I find is going to be devoted to me sleeping. Sleep has taken precedence over food." 

Gohan nodded, stroking the glass of the frame, his eyes clouded over as tears ran down his cheeks. The shaky smile on his lips hitched as he noticed the faint shadow thrown between his father and little girl in the picture. The photographer had been Trunks; of course it had been, this had been taken during their year in space. The faint smile shattered into a scowl, but he shook it off. "It's alright, Sweetheart," he choked past his tears, his voice quiet and uncharacteristically heavily laden with burden. "I understand." 

"Daddy…" Her voice was strained and just as troubled as his. 

"I understand Sweetheart. I'll see you at dinner, alright?" 

She sighed, but when she next spoke, her voice was light again. "Keep your fingers crossed but don't wait for me, alright?" He heard her turn and say something to Trunks; he swiped the tears out of his eyes, telling himself that she had grown up. That he should have seen this coming, that he was probably jumping to unmerited conclusions. 

"Daddy, save me." 

The voice was so small and so pitiful and pathetic and so unprovoked that his soul started, that his heart wrenched. He wanted to reach out and hold her, he wanted to take her into his arms and hold her, take care of his daughter the way he always should have taken care of her. And he did reach out, but she wasn't there. He couldn't reach her. 

He had _never_ been able to reach her. 

"Panny," 

"_Pan! Please!_" 

He heard her whimper, torn between two of the people she loved the most. 

"I've got to go…sorry Daddy." 

"It's ok," he told her, but in reality the words were more for himself. He stared dejectedly at the picture, his smile sad, his soul still writhing from a plea he couldn't answer. "I understand…Call if you're going to be late tonight." 

She paused, or else her words were lost on him, then she sighed. "Daddy—I—" 

"I understand, Sweetie," he assured her, forcing himself to breathe as he wiped away his tears with his shirtsleeve, praying that his nose didn't sound as stuffy to her as it did in his head. 

She hesitated again, her hesitation cut off by more whimpers and groans from Trunks. 

"Shit…Daddy, I've gotta go." 

Gohan let his shoulders roll forward as his head fell slightly onto his chest. Tears glistened in his eyes once more as he stared at the little girl he hadn't been there for—the little girl she'd been that year in space, where his father was hers and her brother, and the boy he had baby-sat had been her best friend, role model, and so many other things. A stray tear slipped down his cheek, and he wished that he could crush the boy into a pulp. But she'd hate him if he did…it was too late now. 

He drew his finger across the glass once more. 

He should have seen this coming. 

"Take care, Panny," he whispered to the dial tone.

*****************************  
A/N: Well, I don't really have much more to say. Right now, I'm pretty braindead, and obviously out of it. I hope you guys liked this chapter. What was goin' on in that office, huh? Anyways, I need to go. Oh! And I feel loved! My buddy told me (but didn't promise, and that's ok!) that someday he might draw me a fanmanga based on PT! Yay! I love you buddy! Yay!

-Panabelle ;P  
[Shrine of the Saiyan Squirt][1]

   [1]: http://www.geocities.com/panabelle18



	58. Chapter 57: What's Wrong?

Disclaimer: Fat man in a corsette, oh no! 

A/N: Once again, I prove my existance is still functional. Yay! Actually, I've been pretty busy lately; I had homecoming, college classes to finish, HIGH SCHOOL, not to mention all of my failed attempts at a social life. The big thing was moving my website back to angelfire...I finally got fed up with geocities. Oh well. Things are back to normal. 

Hey, thanks to everyone who wished me luck with homecoming. I didn't win...any of the 4 court places...but the fact that I was out there on the field was more than enough for me. Um...yeah. Anyhoo, I should probably get on whit da fic, shouldn't I? Well, ok. Here ya go. 

Also, be sure to leave a review when you're done.

*******************************  
Petrified Tears  
Chapter 57

  
  


Gently, he nuzzled her shirt, drawing up his legs and wrapping his arms around her, feeling his sanity return to him. Her fingers carelessly tangled his hair, her nails gracing across his scalp in the most sensuous of ways. 

"I never will forget that," she laughed quietly, her voice soothing like slow drops of water falling from the leaves of a tree after a storm. 

Blinking, he opened his eyes and moved his head, his cheeks growing red as his nose brushed against her breast, his face calm. He smiled up at her, lifting a hand and reaching up to swipe her hair out of her face; she caught his hand and held it in her lap, her thumb gently sliding down the scar-like wound on his own, a wound that was nearly healed. 

"Thank you," he mumbled, capturing her tiny hand in his, squeezing it and her and then pushing himself up into a sitting position, looking at her as she reclined against the side of his desk. He pushed her hair out of her eyes with his other hand as he freed the first. "For understanding." 

She laughed, pushing herself to her feet, and stretched, her hair tumbling around her shoulders. "No, really. I mean it. I will never forget the look on your face when you fell off the desk." She paused, then laughed, her face brightening. "But that's nothing compared to that wonderful performance of the Funky Chicken you gave me." 

His face flushed, and he looked up at her, then started at a noise from outside the office and dove under his desk. 

Pan turned her head toward the sound, every hair on the back of her neck rising in fear. 

Slowly, the handle turned, and the door swung quietly open. 

Under the desk, Trunks broke into a sweat and started rushing his hands through his hair; Pan crouched in front of the desk, awaiting an ambush and preparing to counterattack. 

A small, feminine form slipped through the opening, the door closed. A hand reached out, flipped on the lights, and Bulma's laughing face appeared from the gloom. 

"Pan? Where's my son?" 

Pan relaxed and sat back against the desktop; the top of Trunks's head and his disheveled hair appeared behind her, the rest of him still hidden. She thumbed back at him. 

Bulma laughed, wiping tears from her eyes. 

"Pan, we need to hire you full time. I don't think the fanclub will be coming back for a few more days!" she chuckled, shuffling forward and pulling her son up, her eyes laughing and sparkling with little stars that Trunks didn't like the look of. 

"They're gone?" he mumbled, cautiously standing and looking around the room as if another girl might jump out of a potted plant or from behind the light fixtures. 

Bulma nodded. "Every one in the building went running as soon as Pan hung up the phone." 

Relief and sanity returned to his face, and he opened a drawer of his desk, reaching in and pressing a button on the top of the small storage area. Slowly, machines humming, the security panels retreated up from the windows, allowing sunlight to pour into the room, the artificial lights automatically adjusting to the sudden flood. 

Pan sighed and lowered her head, picking guiltily at her fingernails. 

Bulma noticed, and walked forward, leaning back against the desk next to her, putting an arm around the young girl's shoulders. "Don't worry about it Pan, they're all fine. Most of them were breaking their restraining orders anyways." 

She shook her head, a black waterfall cascading down her back, tumbling about her shoulders. "It's not that. They were pissing me off and I really didn't want to deal with any of them; they deserved it if any of them got hurt. No…my dad was on the phone; he wanted me to go to lunch with him. And…well…I…I just feel kinda guilty about blowing him off like I did." 

"Really, you don't mean that," Bulma soothed, rubbing her hand along Pan's shoulders, her tone motherly and concerned, her mind drifting back to Saturday, when she'd last seen Pan openly depressed and seemingly unaware of it. 

Pan crossed her arms over her chest, tilting back her head and looking at the ceiling. "I could hear it in his voice. The fangirls were giggling, Trunks was sobbing and whimpering…all I could think about was keep him from going off-hinge…and I think I stepped on my father in the process." 

Bulma laughed quietly, pulling the girl into a one armed hug, playing with her hair. Pan just stood there, staring at her palms. Behind them, Trunks sank uneasily into his chair. 

"Pan, I'm sure Gohan understands. He held an office job for years before he nearly destroyed the building and was allotted the privilege of working at home. He knows how stressful these jobs can be on you saiyans; but as much as you guys hate it, you saiyans are the most productive and ingenious and diligent workers I've ever heard of. I'm positive he'll understand." She laughed quietly, hearing herself from her son's position, and suddenly not so sure of herself. "Panny, I know he'll understand." 

Pan shrugged. Bulma continued. 

"But surely, you don't mean that the fangirls _deserved_ any pain they received when you blew up at them!" 

Pan shrugged mutely. 

Swallowing thickly, Bulma squeezed the young, raven-haired girl's shoulder. 

"Pan, anyone in your family wishing anyone pain for any reason—" 

"I scare myself sometimes," Pan whispered, a small muscle beneath her eye twitching slightly. "I…I get angry, and I want to hurt and kill something, and I don't care if that something deserved it or not." 

Bulma squeezed her again and let go, looking back at Trunks, her eyes darting towards Pan in demand. Trunks shook his head slightly, but reached forward across the desk to grace his fingers across the small of her back. 

"I need to get going, I have a project to work on. You two get back to work, but take it slow, alright? For the next hour or so?" Bulma instructed, her mind chanting Vegeta's name like a broken record, demanding she talk to her husband about Pan's comment. 

Trunks nodded, Pan remained frozen against the desk, staring at her palms. He watched as his mother left, then tightened his fist around her white pullover. 

"You ok?" 

She nodded, slightly. 

"You're lying." 

He heard her whimper, heard her choke quietly, then heard her voice crawl out of her throat. 

"I miss Grandpa." 

Trunks started, standing slowly, feeling every warning alarm he possessed go off in his body. The last time she had said that, like that, she'd gone to California and disappeared for four years. Mention of that Jack friend of hers echoed in his head, and he knew that if she left again, she wouldn't come back. 

Somehow, the threat of her being gone was more terrifying than the thought of both Gohan and Goten coming after him for chasing her off. 

"We all miss him, Panny," he managed gently, his voice steady and reassuring, despite the panic he felt. He tightened his grip on her shirt, then let go. She turned back to him. Her face was pale, her eyes distraught and tortured. 

"Trunks?" 

He met her gaze, watching her eyes grow dark, watching her stare at something she didn't see. 

"I need a hug…" 

Her voice was quiet, almost too quiet to hear, but he heard it. He felt it in the base of his chest. Before the words themselves registered, she turned and stepped on and over the top of the desk, and ducking into him, wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her cheek against his shoulder. 

Mechanically, his mind too preoccupied with worry to function properly, he lifted one arm and wrapped it around her back. She sniffed and started to pull away, but he raised the other arm, holding her in strong arms that would never let her get away from him again.

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A/N: Ok...YOU'RE ALL PERVERTS. 'Cept for the one reviewer who thought Trunks had slammed his fingers in his desk. *giggles, that one _classic_! Ok, anyhoo, review, and on to the next chapter! 

-Panabelle ;P  
Shrine of the Saiyan Squirt 


	59. Chapter 58: Not Anymore

Disclaimer: I own an air mattress. But no pump with which to fill it up. 

A/N: I'm not kidding! I can't find my pump! Errgh...anyhoo...._o.O_ Lookie! _2_ chapters at once!

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Petrified Tears  
Chapter 58

  
  


"Gohan?" came the voice of his wife from the kitchen. "Gohan…Gohan what's wrong?" 

He ground his teeth as he pushed through the front door, lifting off into the sky, trying to ignore his wife as she ran out after him, calling him back. He just kept going; going where, he didn't know, just going. 

That was the beauty of tenure, of working at home. He could leave whenever he wanted, work whenever he wanted, and so long as he met his deadlines, no questions would ever be asked. Trunks had tenure, but disappeared too often to actually be able to take advantage of it. 

The thought of Trunks made him twitch in anger; he shot forward, rocketing through the sky, feeling the clouds rip apart around him, feeling the wisps of white and yellow fluff gliss across his face. He flew faster, the familiar rush of air bringing him back to his childhood, back to a time when things were simpler and when life consisted of a series of days…not a series of hourly dilemmas that were no more serious than Who was sparring Who and When. 

Ok, so maybe his life _wasn't_ that simple as a kid, what with people like Cell, Freeza, and Buu on the loose. But he was never unhappy as a kid, not even when he was in his early twenties, starting a family and clueless about what he had been doing. The most complicated his life had ever been had been on three occasions: When Videl had stormed out with their daughter after an argument and not come back for 3 days, when his mother had landed herself catatonic in the hospital, and when Pan had left for college and disappeared for 4 years. 

Gohan slowed and let his eyes blur. He'd never been one to hold back tears because of his pride; the only times he had ever held back tears had been during fights, or times when he needed his vision. Now, he found himself sobbing. 

Gripping his head, he righted himself in the air, slowly lowering himself, praying that his memory of the landscape surrounding his house wasn't as far off as he feared it was. 

After a few bumps against trees, he landed, falling into a heap, head held between both palms in a vice as he rested his elbows on his knees. Tears streamed down his face, sobs raked his body, he gasped for air, his glasses falling unnoticed to the ground. 

She was gone; his little girl had grown up. 

Without him. 

He raked his hands through his hair, his soul overcome with grief his body didn't seem to be able to handle. 

He had no hope of getting her back, she wasn't _his_ anymore. 

She wasn't _his_ Panny at all. 

Not anymore.

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A/N: You gonna review? Yes you are, I know you are. So go on, review. I _dare_ ya. 

-Panabelle ;P  
Shrine of the Saiyan Squirt


	60. Chapter 59: Pay Phone

Disclaimer: I GOTS NEW SHOES! 

A/N: _O.O 3_ chapters! Quick, someone slap me, I think I need to have my head examined. 

Review, por favor!

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Petrified Tears  
chapter 59

  
  


Pan set her jaw as she moved down the hall, daring the other girls in the building with her eyes, challenging them as she made her way past. Many scuttled off in fear, several making terrible, sprinted dashes for the nearest exit. Pan smirked as they fled, some small part of her wishing they wouldn't, but some small part of her also feeding off of their fear. 

Back straight and arms taut with rigidity she stormed towards the break room, hugging her files to her chest. 

_I don't like coming off as a bitch…but I've cried way too much in the last week._

Slipping into the break room, she quickly and quietly shut the door behind her, and glanced around to see if anyone was in the room; the room was deserted. 

The break room was small and modest, housing a refrigerator, a vending machine, a payphone, and a couch. A rectangular table, large enough to seat 12 people comfortably around it, along with numerous chairs, dominated the center of the room. Pan knew that Capsule Corp housed about 100 break rooms, 2 rooms or more to a floor; she also knew that because of the mass numbers of rooms for workers, Trunks or Bulma would take over one room, closing the door and marking it off limits to all Capsule Corps employees. 

Pan moved swiftly across the room, setting the files on the table, letting her cold demeanor melt away. 

_My Dende, I'm turning into_ Vegeta_, of all people!_

She laughed at the thought, her eyes lifting from the depression of betraying her father. She didn't know why she was so affected by having turned her father down, but all the same, she felt terrible. There had been something in his voice that had disturbed her, but she had been too preoccupied to press him about it. 

Now though, she had more pressing matters to attend to. 

She spread the files out in a fluid motion, the document names staring up at her in red from their folders. From her back pocket, she withdrew a page with names written across it, and leaning forward on the table, chose the files that corresponded with the names on the paper. She dropped them into a stack on the end of the table, putting them into the order she needed them, then spread them back across the table; they took up all 12 feet of it. She then scanned her eyes down the second column of the page, a list of papers to be pulled from each file. 

Starting with the bottom-most file, she pulled the necessary paperwork, flipping through the contents of each manila folder until she had found what she wanted, and had assembled the papers according to the order on her page. 

A few moments later, she stepped back, surveying her work; the folders were still neat and tidy, and her stack of papers was complete. 

Pan yawned, running a hand back through her still-damp black hair. Trunks had given her 2 hours to complete the task of pulling the files, only because he thought it'd take her longer to find a place with a big enough table to complete the task. It had only taken her an hour total, her imitation of Vegeta when he's pissed having made it very easy to find a room. 

She had an hour left, and nothing to do since Trunks was busy holding a conference with a potential client in his office, and she wasn't in the mood to sit idly at Ms. Haruna's—_her_—desk, in clear view of all office employees, for over an hour. 

Her eyes scanned the room for something which might prove entertaining, her eyes landing decisively on the couch behind her. _Nap!_ her body screamed, and the thought sent a ripple of pleasure through her. But as she moved towards the inviting plush and leather specter before her, she shook off the idea and stepped involuntarily backwards. 

Sleep would be bad, anybody in the office could bust in and disturb her, even shanghais the paper work. 

Shoulders slumping, she glanced dejectedly around the room, feeling boredom come upon her. The refrigerator was off-limits; it was for employee lunches, and she didn't have any of her own food stashed in it. She didn't have any money, so that left any entertainment to have been derived by the vending machine as impossible. The only other thing in the room was the employee payphone. 

For a moment, she toyed with the idea of calling Bra, but if Bulma realized she was using the phone during work hours, it'd be her hide. Her uncle was at work, and calling Marron was out of the question (Krillin would just hang up on her again). She considered calling her parents, but she didn't have the courage to speak to her father. That left no one. 

Her eyes strayed to her watch, and she dove for the phone, yanking her wallet out of her back pocket and pulling out a phone card. 

"He'd be home by now," she murmured, stuffing the phone between an ear and a shoulder, holding the card and beginning to dial the insane amounts of numbers. "He's got to be home…if he's not home by now…"

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A/N: That's it for now, surprisingly. The next few chapters shouldn't take _nearly_ as long as these did, I promise. 

Be sure to review. 

-Panabelle ;P  
Shrine of the Saiyan Squirt


	61. Chapter 60: Mother

Disclaimer: Oh, come on, I mean, _really_. _My_ Chibi Trunks action figure is better than anyone else's; hell, better than _any_ action figure in all the galexies! Ok, so maybe he doesn't have kung fu action grip, nor any special little accessories that make him kick ass like all of the others, but that just makes him all the cooler! So stop going on and on about _your_ action figures, be them Chibi Trunks or I.G. Joe's, because they all pale in comparison to _my_ Chibi Trunks action figure. *Chibi Trunks say "Damn straight!"* 

A/N: Did I promise that I'd update sooner than I did last time? Well? Didn't I? I did. It's been, what, 3 days? I'm updating. **_SEVEN FRICKIN' CHAPTERS!_** _So stop complaining already about how I never update, and how I never answer any questions!_

*giggles* Read on, and enjoy. And don't forget:  


Tomorrow is never guaranteed. All we are really guaranteed is the breath in our lungs. Time is short, so review while you can. Maybe, if I'm motivated, I'll finish PT before the year is out.

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Petrified Tears  
chapter 60

  
  


Videl returned quietly to the kitchen, absently putting her fingers to her temple as she walked, smearing flour across her face. 

"Videl? Are you alright?" 

She blinked distractedly, moving back to her pie, absently kneading the dough with her hands, her mind a million miles away. 

_Gohan…Dende, what's wrong with my husband? Ever since Pan came back, he's been like this…If I didn't know better, I'd say he just can't accept the fact that she's all grown up now, that she's not a little girl anymore, that she's a grown woman. But… he learned and accepted that fact after she came back from space. She played mother figure to Goku and Trunks while they were up there, she proved herself, and Gohan and I have accepted her as an adult ever since…but why this? Why all of a sudden?_

The look on Gohan's face as he had left haunted her; the stern jaw, the look of utter uselessness in his eyes…his eyes. They'd been so clouded they'd been purple, the same purple as the mysterious bruise on the side of his face, he hadn't even seen where he had been going on the way out. His back had been so straight, his shoulders so set, that she could swear on the fact that he was going out to fight a battle he knew he wouldn't be coming back from. 

"Videl, calm down." 

Videl blinked, finally focusing on the soft and powder white hands that stilled her own. Her fingers were covered in dough and the counter was a sticky mess. Swallowing back the lump of worry in her throat, she looked up at the owner of the hands, at the porcelain skin that didn't seem to age, the kind black eyes that knew things that she herself would never know. 

"Videl," ChiChi whispered, lifting a hand and setting it on the younger mother's head, soothingly stroking her hair, smiling at her knowingly. "Gohan's a big boy, but sometimes he overreacts; it's a curse he inherited from his mother." 

Videl pulled a hand from the dough, not caring that it was still covered in pastry, and wiped an eye with the back of her hand. 

"ChiChi, I've never seen him like this…he…he overreacts all the time, it's one of the things I love so much about him…but never like this. I don't know if he's overreacting, if he's just itching to fight something evil because it's been so long, if he's suffering a midlife crisis, or if he's just lost his mind! I've never seen him like this, and the worst part of all of this, is that the root of his depression is in my little girl…I…" 

ChiChi drew the younger mother into her arms, stroking her hair and murmuring into her ear, an act that Videl had experienced only vaguely as a child. 

"It's alright, Videl. I understand what Gohan's going through, and he'll be fine in a few days." 

Videl ripped herself from her mother-in-law's embrace, her eyes angry and betrayed. 

"ChiChi! He's your _son_, and I don't know if _I_ can survive another _hour_ with him like this, let alone if _he_ can!" She looked absolutely wild as she stood there, flour smeared across her face, flour and dough in her short hair, her eyes vibrantly defiant. "Pan's changed so much, and was gone so long, that it's driving him insane, and I don't know if he's just trying to cope with the fact that he has _no hope_ left of her being his little girl anymore, or if he's just trying to pin the blame on someone else, or—" 

Her blue eyes grew wide in shock and…_pain_…as ChiChi drew her hand sharply across her cheek and stood ready to backhand her if necessary. She brought her hand to her cheek, the stinging red sore growing dormant under the cool reality of the dough on her fingers. Her eyes turned toward the older and wiser woman before her, as she stood still after delivering the blow, her eyes hard in promise of another slap if she dared to doubt her again. 

She swallowed thickly and slowly brought her hand down, letting it fall across her chest before setting it on the counter. She drew in a deep breath and held it, letting it slide out of her lungs of its own accord before drawing another. ChiChi slowly lowered her own hand to her side, resting the other on the counter, reaching over and clutching Videl's. 

"I know you think I'm being a terrible mother and that I need to worry about him because this isn't right. But sometimes the best you can be is supportive. I starting going through the same mood swings the second I met you because I knew from the start that you'd won my little boy's heart and that in a few years, you two would be married and I couldn't chastise him about his wasted study time, or how I don't want him fighting, because he'd belong to you. And I _liked_ and _trusted_ you with my little Gohan, had _plans_ for you two together, and had _another_ son to boot!" ChiChi smiled warmly at her, the cold edge leaving her black eyes. "Its not so bad for you, just like it wasn't hard at all for my Goku. You're independent, you didn't have a mother hovering over your shoulder as you grew up. And Pan's just as independent, and you have the advantage of past experience and instinct telling you when to let go or when to reel her in. Goku had that, and I swear he was the only thing that kept me from coming unglued at your wedding. But Gohan _doesn't_ have that. Goten does, Krillin did, Uub does, Yamcha did. I didn't keep Goten so close when he was little, I wasn't always after him, I let him and Trunks run ragged on occasion. But Gohan was always close to home. Close to me. He needed my approval…and when he couldn't find me, he sought Piccolo's or his father's. 

"You didn't need that, and that makes Pan's growing up easier for you to take. It will be easier for me with Goten…if he ever decides to settle down…and Bulma's so ready to get Trunks out of the nest she'll throw a party rather than lose her mind." 

Videl turned back to her pie dough, covering it in flour in attempt to salvage some of it. 

"Just think about how bad _Vegeta_ will be when _his_ little girl proves she's all grown up and looking to get hitched." 

Videl laughed hollowly, her lips curling unbidden into a smile. 

ChiChi set her hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. 

"Now I've done my duty and talked some semblance of sense into you. Go slap my son around and get him to come around." 

Videl smiled back at her, and rubbed her hands together getting off the dough, threw her apron on the table, and ran from the room, leaping into the sky in search of her husband.

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A/N: That's about it for this chapter, onward, to the next! 

-Panabelle ;P  
Shrine of the Saiyan Squirt 


	62. Chapter 61: Empty Questions

Disclaimer: Ah shit...who let Jack out of his cage? *goes chasing after the little devil waving a sign that reads "Panabelle owns all! Sue her! Sue her!"* Jack! Drop that this instant before you get me in trouble! 

A/N: Are you reviewing? You should be. Anywho, one with the new chapter! 

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Petrified Tears  
chapter 61

  
  


Gohan settled down into the little wisp of cloud with a heavy heart. 

He had run out of tears a while ago, and now was just left with empty questions. 

Questions that drove him and that he needed answers to, but that he had no more emotion left to put into. 

"Take me to Dende's Lookout, old friend," he told the cloud, gently gripping handfuls of yellow fluff in his fists. The little cloud complied, speeding off in the desired direction of its passenger, its pace slightly slower than it had usually been, the misery of its passenger being contagious. 

Gohan sighed and leaned his elbow on his knee, cupping his chin in his palm. 

He felt bad about leaving Videl like he had, with no warning and no explanation, and with no reassurance other than this ramrod-straight back as he walked past the kitchen and out the front door, but he knew she wouldn't understand. He knew _nobody_ would understand; Piccolo had completely misinterpreted the situation between Trunks and his daughter. Vegeta more than likely understood, but Gohan would prefer not to deal with the Prince's cryptic explanations in his current state of mind, and Bulma was just so determined to get Trunks married, that the entire "Pan situation" was being overlooked. Goten understood well enough, but he was Goten…too much their father's son to be of any real help other than a laugh and a smile. 

Gohan sighed again. Pan had made him promise not to tell anyone about what she'd told him…but he wasn't going to _tell_ anyone; he was going to _talk_ to someone who had _watched_ it happen. 

Dende. 

It'd been a long time since Gohan had flown to the lookout and sat down to talk with the little green Namekian that he'd (in a sense) grown up with, and now not only did he feel the need to reminisce about the past, but he needed to talk to someone about his daughter. 

He didn't expect Dende to understand. Dende just had this way about him though, where he understood enough to give comfort, and to put things into perspective. But the nice thing about Dende was that he didn't _pretend_ to understand. He just listened and did what he could to help; he didn't tell you what you wanted to hear, or that everything would be alright shortly. He just reminded you that you'd been through worse times, and that there would continue to be bad times, that it was just a part of life, but those down times only made the good times better. 

That's what Gohan needed right now. 

The air was cool around him as they flew, Nimbus taking his lazy time, the air gently tossing locks of Gohan's hair around his face in an almost playful way that had thrilled him as a child. If he closed his eyes, he could feel his father's arm holding him on his shoulder, or feel his own little arms wrapped around his father's leg, Goku determined to make his son smile and laugh and shriek with delight. He could remember clinging to his hat as they flew, or sitting in his father's lap, laughing only like a four year, a five year, a child could. It'd made Goten laugh the same way when he was little, when Gohan had held his seven year old little brother on the cross-section of his ankles, tickling his sides as they flew home from the Briefs', or to the Briefs'. 

It'd once made Panny laugh, too. 

Gohan felt his eyes try to well up, but it was impossible; there were no more tears left in him, none that could be reached without a dizzying amount of sobbing and retching and soul-baring; nothing that Gohan wanted to do. He'd done it too often in his life, and he wasn't going to continue to do it. 

He flopped back into the little cloud, stuffing his glasses into his pocket, hooking a leg so that it hung out against his own leg. 

He had always known that Pan had kept a lot of skeletons in her closet, and that some of those skeletons had even been there since before he'd started teaching her how to fight. But she'd always been a happy kid, happy-go-lucky even. It was hard for a Son _not_ to have a happy life. Sure, life was hell, and life was as confusing as learning how to ride a bike for the first time, but that was the beauty of it. Once you've learned how to ride, you never forget. Sure, going from slow and steady on a level street, to huffing and puffing up a steep hill, to zipping down an even steeper hill with brakes that didn't want to work were all challenges that you had to learn to overcome, so the bike ride was rarely as easy and serene as it would seem at first. But over time, the hills wouldn't seem so big, nor so impossible, they just took a little more work or a little more commitment than the last; you just don't realize how big they really are until you stop on the crest of one of them and look back over the ground you've covered. 

Gohan sighed. None of the actual bike rides he ever been on had ever actually been easy or serene. Most involved Goten, Trunks, Pan, and a lot of pain. Oh, how he missed those rides, he and Goten and Pan and occasionally Trunks riding down the wooded trails, racing each other as Goten and Pan held a competition as to who could be the more endangered or daring, Trunks popping wheelies and being the pompous bastard his father had given him the right to be, Gohan just racing to keep up with them, usually playing Ben-Hur with his little brother, each trying to shove each other from their bikes. 

How he missed his daughter sneaking into a room just to jump him from behind with a hug; how much would he give to be able to hold her in his lap and play with her hair as she told him about her day, to help her with her homework, to take her flying or to teach her to keep her guard up in a spar. 

He would give just about anything for those moments, just for one more shot at each of those moments. He'd sell his soul for that life, if it meant he could keep it, if it meant that Pan hadn't grown up and didn't have to, that she could stay his little Panny forever and smile at him with those blue eyes that could have been black sapphires or blue diamonds, and never, _never_, smile at anyone else with those eyes. 

But those days were gone; she was older now, she _had_ grown up. The bikes were rusted and bent and broken beyond repair from reckless races. She was never home anymore to surprise him with the only embrace a father ever wants from his daughter—the kind that just says "I love you Daddy!" all over it, with a smile and those eyes that twinkled just for him to make the hug all the more special. She was too big and too old to sit in his lap, and more often than not, the events of her day would terrify him for her well-being, or for Trunks's. She had graduated completely, no longer had homework. Flying was nothing compared to that damned bike Trunks had brought that morning, and she didn't fight like she used to; she knew what she was doing now, there was nothing more he could teach her that wouldn't attract a potential evil. 

Besides, she only seemed to want to spar with Trunks now. 

Gohan rubbed his eyes and sat up, the distant top-shaped silhouette that was the Lookout glistening in the distance. 

As much as he didn't want to admit it, it had been a date. Trunks had picked her up, he'd taken her to and paid for dinner, and he'd kissed her. The basic outline of a date. 

Exhaustion began to set in and he laid back down, rubbing his temples. It just felt wrong to him; Trunks had been nearly as much his son as Goten had been his son when they were seven—Trunks always just _there_, always underfoot, and he was the only father either boy had ever known. Goten until Goku had finally come home, Trunks to this day because Vegeta was too busy with himself. As they had grown older, when he and Videl had been talking of marriage, before Pan had been born and when the boys had finally discovered girls, Goku had been around, and Goten had turned his reverence towards their father, but still held his brother in high regard. Trunks hadn't been around so much, had been so convinced to prove himself to his _real_ father, that Gohan hardly saw him, and simply began to think of him as a second brother, extended family. 

And then Pan had been born. Trunks and Goten had already discovered babies with Bra's birth, but both had pretty much avoided her, the daughter of Bulma being too much of a screamer and crier to their ears. But with Pan, Bra's-up-and-coming best friend, they couldn't get enough of her, and would "kidnap" the young girl whenever Videl was sleeping or distracted. Often, Trunks had Bra with him, baby-sitting for his mother, and the 14 year old Briefs and the 13 year old Son would just sit and watch the two little babies interact, often wondering if they had acted the same way. They were over so often, that Gohan began to think of Bra as his own, just as much as Pan was. 

Trunks and Bra just became a part of their family, Bra the "other daughter", and Trunks drifting in and out with Goten as the two entered high school and devoted their time to "homework" and females. As the girls had grown older, Trunks was still family, and was still seeking Gohan's approval at age 32 when Pan left for college. 

He should have seen this coming; he should have known that his daughter's crush hadn't been just a crush, but what might turn out to be forever. How many evening of "shop talk" in the kitchen had been interrupted by Pan sneaking up on the purple-haired son of Vegeta, leaping up behind his chair and locking one arm across his head and face, the other over his shoulder and down towards his appendix, his struggles to keep from choking on coffee, laughter, and his own surprise knocking them both splaying across the kitchen linoleum, then turning into a tiny wrestling match that Trunks never tried at but always won? How many father-daughter afternoons had suddenly involved Trunks as they passed on the street? How many times had she gone to Trunks with her problems, before she went to her father? 

Gohan didn't know. He didn't want to know. 

All he knew is that he should have seen this coming. He should have known that Pan hadn't really just been hopelessly infatuated with the boy he'd once and still considered a brother. Should have known that Trunks would have known her to be older than her years, the perfect match to his refusal to grow up past the age his face displayed. 

Maybe that was why he could never think of Trunks as anything more than "the boy". Trunks was just that, a big kid trapped in an adult's body; he was like Goku like that, only too bogged down with the realities of life and the corruptions of living 24-7 with Bulma and Vegeta. 

Or maybe it was the fact that if he acknowledged the fact that Trunks was nearly forty, he himself was older than he wanted to be. Like age mattered to him…but it mattered to his wife and his mother. If Trunks was nearing 40, then he himself was nearly 50. And that only meant that his mother was almost 70, and that there were only so many years left before he lost Videl. 

He wasn't stupid nor naïve. Age meant nothing to him; ever since he'd come out of puberty, he'd aged one year for every three. So, if he was forty-six, in reality, he might as well been only _twenty_-six or so. Videl, however, was susceptible to the years, as was his mother. His mother had already suffered one heart attack and it had left her catatonic for over a week. Videl was aging; in the tradition of aging women everywhere, she'd cut her hair short in attempt to look younger, or in Videl's case, in attempt to make her mornings less stressful. Even Pan was susceptible; she may look her age now, and may still look twenty-one for years to come, but she'd age faster than he had and still would. 

Gohan pushed himself back up until his legs were crossed at the ankle and folded back—nearly under him, looking ahead as the Lookout loomed over him and the tiny cloud. His mind was even more trouble now then it had been when he had left; he only prayed Dende could help him at lease make _sense_ of all of this.

* * *

As if on cue, the green Namekian appeared as the little yellow cloud lifted Gohan to the level of the lookout, eyes wide with knowing surprise and face kind with welcome. 

"Gohan!" he laughed, watching as the troubled half-saiyan stepped onto the floor of the floating palace and waved good-bye to the yellow cloud. "It's been a long time." 

Gohan nodded, his troubles momentarily forgotten but still reeking havoc on his mind. "Yeah, it has been a long time, hasn't it Dende?" 

The two stood awkwardly before Dende turned, his staff leading them to the steps of the palace, where they say just outside the Room of Spirit of Time. The silence became ominous as they were joined by the older Namek, who stood with his back against the wall, nothing but one shoulder and part of the side of his face visible to the younger and Gohan. 

Piccolo cleared his throat, and Dende mentally steeled himself, throwing himself into conversation. 

"So what brings you, old friend? You haven't been here since shortly after Goku left us." 

Gohan's face flicked with anger, but that anger quickly died away into depressed defeat. "You know full well what brings me here, Dende. If you don't, you've been doing a terrible job as guardian of Earth." 

Dende shook his head. Piccolo kept his ears locked on their feeble beginning to a conversation. Beyond hearing range, Mr. Popo was bustling about his garden, a bright smile on his face as he tended his flowers. 

"Yes, Gohan, I do know," Dende started, his soft voice floating effortlessly on the gentle breeze that seemed to have taken residence at the Lookout since before Gohan could remember. "And sadly, there's nothing I can tell you that you don't already know," he cautioned, his eyes hidden behind a blatant lie that even the Son picked up on. 

Rolling down onto his back, Gohan sighed, raking his hands through his hair. "You know _something_, Dende. In the past four years, my daughter has changed into someone I hardly know, my little brother has gotten smart, and I've lost track of Krillin and his family, not to mention the Briefs. And in the past _seven_ days, Pan's been crushed by Trunks, Trunks has _accepted_ my challenge, Bulma has kept both of them locked up at Capsule Corps Offices so I never _see_ either of them, my brother has everything figured out while I'm still floundering for _straws_, and my mother has started going through menopause. And that's just off the top of my head!" he complained, eyes sad and puppy-like, face tight and distraught. 

Dende glanced to Piccolo, who nodded discreetly. Gohan noticed, and laughed inwardly. _Guardian for over 30 years and still looking to Piccolo for permission_. Just as inwardly, he kicked himself. _Who'm I kidding? I'm nearly 50 and I _still _can't figure anything out with Piccolo's help._

"Gohan, if you weren't Pan's father, this would all make perfect sense to you, too." 

Gohan screamed and jumped up, standing in aggravated frustration before the guardian. 

"That doesn't help me! I still don't know what's going on! Oh, for the love of Dende! Gen…uh…Kami! Argh…_Dammit!_" he swore, and collapsed back onto the steps, holding his head in his hands and laughing at the terrible irony of it all. Rubbing his temples, he fought for calm before allowing himself to speak again, ignoring the laughter of the Nameks. "Dende, I can't just _not_ be her father, even if just for a few minutes. It doesn't work that way. I just…I want to know what's going on. I want to know what's going on…" he repeated, trailing off. 

A warm hand settled on his head, and peace swept over him. His head fell into his hands and his neck seemed to disappear into his shoulders, his eyes falling closed. He felt like he was a child again, safe and sound when Piccolo would watch over him sleep, or when his father would cradle him in one arm after a long day. For a fleeting instant he thought it was Piccolo or his father, but the hand was too small, too delicate. 

_Mom?_

"Dende? Piccolo?" he heard his wife's voice murmur. "Would you two mind leaving me along with my husband for a few minutes?" 

The two Nameks nodded and moved away. Videl raised her voice slightly. "And no eavesdropping you two!" 

Both stiffened, their faces turning that odd purplish-green of blushing Nameks, and hurried off to the edge of the Lookout to speak amongst themselves. 

Gohan opened his eyes and lifted his head from his hands, looking at Videl as she sat down next to him and laced an arm through one of his, leaning up against his shoulder. 

"What's wrong, Gohan?" she murmured. 

Without warning, the half-saiyan burst into tears he didn't know he still had.

**********************************  
A/N: *sniff* Poor Gohan, I can't stand doing this to him, but, c'est le vie *don't speak french*, all will work out for the better in the end. 

-Panabelle ;P  
Shrine of the Saiyan Squirt


	63. Chapter 62: Moll-ed

Disclaimer: *held by the back of his shirt by an irate Panabelle* Ergh...hi. Panabelle doesn't own anything, especially not DB/Z/GT. She doesn't even own her own underwear! She has to--*Panabelle quickly clamps a hand over Jack's mouth, her face read, and proceeds to throttle her demonic muse* 

A/N: I really _hate_ him sometimes. 

***************************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 62

  
  


"Hello, Bicycle house, frat floor, how can I help you?" 

Pan closed her eyes and nervously wound the phone cord around her fingers. "Yeah…hi...you sound new." 

The voice on the other line laughed. "Yeah, sorry about that, name's Barnaby. I'm not used to this phone thing, I feel like I'm workin' at Papa Murphey's or some other pizza joint." 

Pan laughed quietly. "Barnaby, huh?" 

"Yup, that's me. So who you callin' for?" 

She hesitated. "Yeah…Jack Richards…he in?" 

There was a slight pause, then, "Lemme check. Hang on a sec." 

"_Hey, Mallrat! Jack in?_" 

"_Yeah, he's in, why?_" 

"_Got a phone call for him._" 

Another pause, then the girl's voice continued. "_He just got back from his mom's so I wouldn't suggest trying to bring him out where the rest of us can see him…give me the cordless and I'll take it to him._" 

Barnaby turned back to the phone. "Yeah, he's here. Uh…I'm not so sure that…" 

"I know all about his fights with his mother," Pan laughed. "Could you get him to a phone kinda quick? This is pretty long distance and I don't have a lot of time to talk…" 

"'Long distance'…define…'long distance'…" 

Pan swallowed and sheepishly offered, "Japan?" 

"_Japan?!_" 

Pan winced, nearly dropping the phone. She never knew a man's voice could jump so many octaves. 

In the background, she heard the word repeated again, only this time in excitement, rather than shock. 

"_JAPAN!? Barnaby, hand over the damn phone already!_" 

Pan groaned. Her fifteen minute phone call to check up on a friend had just turned into a forty-five minute attempt to get the phone to Jack to _have_ a fifteen minute phone call. 

There were a few clunks and then a smack, and suddenly, Molly's voice came breathlessly on. 

"Pankake?" 

"Yo." 

"_Pankake! Pankake Pankake Pankake!_" 

Pan winced and brought the phone back. "Could you turn it down, Molly? You're hurting my ears." 

"Sorry," Molly said, whispering hoarsely. "What's new? You've been gone seven days and you miss us already? Aw…I love you too!" 

Shaking her head and rubbing her eyes, Pan mumbled into the phone. "I love you too Molly, but that's not why I'm calling. And I've been gone 8 days…you forget the plane ride." 

Silence came through the other end, with exception of a few groans from Barnaby. 

"'Plane ride'?" 

"Yeah. Plane ride." 

"Plane ride." 

"Yeah, plane ride, you know, you get into this big white tube with wings pasted on the sides and it flies through the air and takes you to different places?" Pan asked, sarcasm taking over her voice. 

"Pan, you can _fly_. Why did you bother taking a _plane_?" 

"Is Barnaby supposed to know I can fly, Molly?" 

"Shit!" In the background, Pan heard her friend slap the defenseless Barnaby around in attempt to give him amnesia. "_You heard nothing._" 

"Moll…Moll…_Molly_." As her friend finally put the phone back to her head, Pan groaned. "Look, I'm at work, I can't talk long because my boss will kill me…look, just go find Jack already and give him the phone, please?" 

Molly laughed. "Alright, Pankake…only on the terms that next time you call, you call _me_." 

"Yeah yeah, no promises. Just get the phone to Jack? Please?"

*********************************  
A/N: I know you're going to review. You all just love me _soooooooo_ much. ;P 

-Panabelle ;P  
Shrine of the Saiyan Squirt


	64. Chapter 63: Business

Disclaimer: *still held by Panabelle* Damn her. Fine, if this is the way she's gonna be, I won't inspire her. I'll just-- *shuts up as Belle kisses his cheek* *turns bright red, head sinks into shoulders* *mumbling* Belle doesn't own DB/Z/GT. I own this story. I'm gonna go away and take Belle with me now... *attempts to fly away, isn't strong enough to carry Panabelle* 

A/N: I love my muse. He's quirky in a very innocent way. Off I go to write more chapters, he's being nice to me tonight.

*******************************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 63

  
  


"And that's my predicament." 

Trunks stifled a yawn by coughing into the side of his hand. The man in front of him was clean shaven and well dressed, with a bright, child-like face that reminded him of every one of the men in the Son family. His eyes were slightly diluted behind his thick glasses, but were still lively. The man was of average height, and was extremely overweight…not to mention boring as hell. 

"Mr. Summers, I am regretful to say that there's not much I can do at this time." 

"But Mr. Briefs—" 

Trunks held up his hand, closed his eyes and shook his head. 

"Mr. Richards; I understand all too well the dilemma that your company is in, and I want nothing more than to be able to help you. While I don't necessarily have a family of my own to support, I do have a family: a father who doesn't work, a mother who's retired, and a younger sister. Not to mention, extended family. I can understand how your lack of resources is affecting you and your family." 

The man fidgeted, about to throw in another plea as Trunks paused, stood, and began to pace behind his desk, but the younger man cut him off once more. 

"Now, if you would be willing to leave a copy of your blueprints with me or my secretary, I would be happy to see if there is anything we can do to help you out." 

The man hesitated. "I don't know, Mr. Briefs. I mean…that engine is the only livelihood of my company…we've been having patent problems lately too." He paused, meticulously removing his glasses and scrubbing at them with a hankercheif he drew from his coat pocket. "I don't know how comfortable I feel about leaving my blueprints here…" 

Trunks turned his eyes as inwardly as possible, staring at the tip of his nose until he swore he felt a nerve snap or blood vessel break on the outer side of his left eye. He coughed, pulling his eyes back to normal as the man looked up at him. 

"Mr. Summers," he began. "Capsule Corps looks forward to relying on your engines in some of our up-and-coming products. We are not looking to put you under. My mother briefly looked over your plans last fall before she and I signed the temporary contract with you, giving you a grant to pay for a few prototypes and to get your company on steady ground. The act of stealing details or signatures from your prints would be pointless to us. But, if you are willing to leave a copy with us, I can promise you that none other than myself and my most trusted employee will look over those prints." 

Mr. Summers looked back to his glasses, scrubbing absently at a long gone smudge on the left lens. Trunks felt his cheek twitch, and self-consciously raised a hand to adjust the placement of his own glasses on his nose, knowing that as soon as the man left, he'd be acid-bathing his own pair. 

"You understand, Mr. Briefs, that my family relies on the income from my company…I have grandchildren in college, Mr. Briefs, one of them speaking of marrying a girl he met there. I…Mr. Briefs. I can have copies faxed to you, but you have to swear not to have them duplicated in any form." 

Trunks nodded, breathing a sigh of relief as the man placed his glasses back on his face. 

Mr. Summers coughed into his hand, pulling a small date book out of the breast pocket of his jacket. "My grandson is coming to visit me next week; if possible, I'd like to speak with you about the plans over dinner and cocktails sometime in the next few days. I understand that tonight is impossible, and tomorrow night is improbable." He studied his date book, licking his fingers and turning a page, and then a second. "I know that it would be a weekend and therefore not a work day, but if we could meet Saturday?" 

Trunks shook his head. "Saturday is out of the question. My sister turns 23 on Saturday, and as is tradition, my mother is throwing her a birthday party." He paused and reached down, pressing his fingers to the surface of his desk, his touch displaying a small calendar. He frowned as he struggled to read the dates through a dusty footprint that was, without a doubt, Pan's. He touched the surface of the desk again, dragging his finger in a horizontal line, and then lifting it. Three boxes (three days) came forward: Thursday, Friday, and Saturday; the next three days. He studied the boxes with a stern face, mentally debating if he really needed to take off after lunch on Friday, or sleep in until 3 in the afternoon on Saturday. 

_Well, _I_ could survive staying here all day tomorrow, but Pan's going to lose her mind if she doesn't get out of here_. He laughed quietly to himself, allowing a smile form in the shape of a smirk on his face. _Who're you kidding? You just want an excuse to get out of this purgatory._

Trunks cleared his throat, then nodded, looking over the rest of the day and Friday. 

_She'll kill me, but I'll let her sleep…and she just got out of college. She can survive on pizza._

"Allowing that all goes well, my assistant and I could have it done by tomorrow night in time to go to cocktails and dinner around 7 o-clock," he announced to the man who sat there, waiting for a response. 

"Mr. Briefs?" the man squawked incredulously. "Mr. Briefs, I find that highly unlikely! My best scientists have slaved over those prints for weeks, and have come up with nothing! In order to come up with _anything_ in twenty-four hours or less would require _not_ sleeping, _not_ stopping to eat, and—hell!—_not_ stopping _period!_" 

Trunks chuckled and looked at the man, smirking kindly. "Sleep? I _don't_ sleep anymore, Mr. Summers. And truth be known, at any given point of the day, I'm at least 50% asleep, so I'm really getting more sleep than I need." 

Mr. Summers chuckled in turn. "I'm afraid that you'll see it only gets worse as you get older, Mr. Briefs. Just wait until you hit 30 and have children running around under your feet and babies screaming in the middle of the night. Sleep will become part of an alien language." 

Trunks felt his cheeks turn red. He saw no point in disillusioning the man and telling him that he was already 35 with no intention of starting a family any time soon, and knew better than to tell him that he _was_ half alien, so he merely laughed, rubbing the back of his head and turning back to his desk. 

"Yeah…well, shall I summon my secretary so that you can call someone about faxing the blueprints?" 

Mr. Summers nodded, thumbing back to the beginning of his date book and uncrossing his legs, standing slowly. 

Trunks pressed the intercom button on his phone. "Pan, come he—" He paused and coughed into his hand, then put his hand back down on the intercom. "Ms. Pan, please come in here for a moment."

**************************  
A/N: *is off writing, left a note taped to the screen* Review. Read next chapter.

-Panabelle ;P  
Shrine of the Saiyan Squirt


	65. Chapter 64: Jack of Hearts

Disclaimer: *takes a break from writing* I just love Jack. He's mine, back off. If any of you try to steal him away from me, I warn you, he's been trained to attack and kill. So hands off the muse! 

A/N: Btb, "hands off the muse" refers to "hands off Jack the character" as well, both "belong" to me. Jack is my muse, and the character is based on him. That done with, back to the fic, oh, and be sure you review. 

**************************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 64

  
  


There was a clearing of the throat, then a soft, hesitant, "Hello?" as if the speaker was shocked that someone would be calling them. 

"Hi." 

Another pause, then a drawn out "Hi…" that was more like "What the hell do _you_ want…" 

Pan laughed. 

"Hey Jack, it's me, Pan." 

"I know who you are, Pan. I'm just wondering why you're calling." 

The voice on the other end was whispered, and almost hostile, but having grown up around Vegeta, and having played therapist for the voice on the other end, she wasn't phased. 

"What's wrong, Jack?" 

A grunt. Then, "Nothing…just my fucking mother won't let up on me about not going on a stupid mission." 

Pan sighed and shook her head. "She ever going to let up on you for denouncing yourself from the church?" 

"I told her she probably should if she wants me to keep coming over for dinner once a week." 

She nodded, knowing he couldn't see her. The silence stretched out, Pan picking at a thread on her pants, Jack doing nothing by the sound of it. 

After a minute, he cleared his throat, and attempted conversation once more. 

"So how are things with you?" 

"Huh?" 

"You know…your family? Your friends? That one guy who you never told me the name of but that you're so in love with?" 

"Oh…yeah…um, things are good," she offered quickly. 

There was another clearing of the throat, and then, "Really. So that's why you were so terrified they wouldn't accept you, and that's why you're so quiet now." 

"Damn you," she murmured, picking at the thread again, letting her hair fall around her face. 

"What's going on, Pan." 

She sighed. "Look, I'm at work and don't have time to go into all of it. I'll call you sometime this weekend when I'm not in danger of getting my ass chewed out, ok?" 

Knowing Jack, he was rolling his eyes. "Then why did you call?" 

"Jack…" 

"Leave out all the details, I don't care. Just tell me, are they accepting you?" 

Pan sighed. "Damn you." 

"Pan…" 

She sighed again. "Alright, short and simple, my dad doesn't know what to do with me, my grandmother couldn't be happier, my mom's just happy I found myself; and that guy I was so enamored with? Well, his mother's trying to talk him into marrying me, and as for him…" 

The silence dragged out for another moment. Jack cleared his throat again. 

"Jack, are you sick?" she asked quietly, not so sure she wanted to continue. She was used to him clearing his throat, but not this often. 

"No. I just spent the last 4 hours yelling at my mother though before I stormed back here…well? What about Mr. Wonderful?" 

Pan put the phone card back into her wallet, standing up and sliding her wallet back into her back pocket. 

"Jack, I've really got to get back to work…" 

"Funny; gone just over a week and already you have a steady job." 

Pan rolled her eyes to the ceiling and blew her bangs out of her face. "Jack, I'm serious." 

There was another pause, and the sound of shuffling cards, the familiar and steady rhythm of the bridge calming her but making her antsy at the same time. "Fine. Just tell me how he's taking it, Pan, and then you can go. If not, I'll be forced to fly over there and drag it out of you." 

Pan sighed, dancing anxiously about the payphone. "Jack, I need to—" 

"Answer the question." 

"Ergh!" She stared up at the ceiling and crossed her eyes. "He kissed me, but it didn't mean anything and now I've gotta go, I'll call you back later!" 

With that, she hung up, gathered her files and papers, and scrambled from the room, instinct telling her to get back to her desk, as fast as possible.

******************************  
A/N: Are you reviewing? I think you are, your mouse is instinctively going to the "review this chapter" button down below, isn't it? It's not? **_WELL IT SHOULD BE??!?!?!?!?_**

-Panabelle ;P  
Shrine of the Saiyan Squirt


	66. Chapter 65: Formalities

Disclaimer: Yeah, I don't...eep! Flying-buzzing-angel-of-death thing with...oh. It's the other muse. Nevermind. 

A/N: If you really want to know about my muses, go to my site, then to the "about Panabelle" section (the link to it is the Goten button that reads Squirt) and you'll learn there. Anyhoo, keep reviewing, I'll keep writing. 

Also, anybody here feel this fic is too long or/and that I should just write one long chapter and finish it? Anybody who does, kiss my ass. If you have a problem with the length, why you still reading it? 

******************************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 65

  
  


"Ms. Pan, could you please come in here?" Trunks repeated, his face heating from his slight of tongue. 

"If you can give me a moment, Mr. Briefs," came the voice of his longtime friend, slightly out of breath, "I will be right there, along with the paperwork you asked me to gather for you." 

"Thank you, Ms. Pan." Trunks dropped his hand from the intercom and coughed into it, clearing his throat. 

"Might you, have something for your secretary, Mr. Briefs?" asked the old man, his voice hinting that he _thought_ Trunks might be _smitten_ with the young girl who had seen him into the office almost an hour and a half before. 

Trunks felt his face threatening to grow red, but quickly told himself that if he could put up with ChiChi and his mother, then he could definitely put up with an old man. 

"She's an old friend of the family," he replied curtly as the door opened and Pan stepped in, closing the heavy oak door with her foot, her small form lost behind a tower of papers and folders. "Just set them on the desk, Ms. Pan," he told her. She obeyed quietly, then stepped back and looked to the two men, waiting further instruction. 

Trunks smirked; something deep inside told Pan to steel herself, she could kill him later. 

"You called me, Mr. Briefs?" 

"Yes, Ms. Pan, I would like you to put some paper in the fax machine, for one, and for two, I would greatly appreciate it if you could call in some sort of order for lunch." 

Pan nodded, resisting the urge to ask him if his arms were broken. But knowing Trunks, he probably figured that she had a thing for the fax machine too. 

Not likely, she hated that _thing_ with a passion. 

But instead, she smiled, and did as ordered, then moved back to the door, pausing as she opened the it. 

"Any special place you'd like your lunch from Mr. Briefs?" 

He paused a moment, glancing down at the desk, then smiled up at her. "Actually, if possible, I would greatly enjoy the special at ChiChi's." 

Pan stared at him blankly, then ground her teeth. "I would be _happy_ and most _delighted_ to call in an order for you, Mr. Briefs. Any _particular_ meal you'd like to order?" 

Trunks steeled himself to keep from laughing as he watched a tiny muscle under Pan's eye start twitching, her teeth bared. "Whatever the current plate of the day is will do." 

She moved to go, then paused as a thought hit her, but Mr. Summers cut her off. 

"ChiChi's? I've never heard of that establishment; is it a new restaurant?" 

Trunks hesitated, then smiled at the old man. "It's just a quaint little place out in the mountains, very…what's the word I'm looking for Ms. Pan? Very…" 

"Members only," she provided quickly. 

Trunks shrugged. "Wasn't quite the word I was looking for but, yes. 'Members only' describes it well." 

"Ah, I see," Mr. Summers mused, glancing back and forth between the two semi-saiyans. He crossed one arm over his chest, and lifted his other hand to hold over his mouth, as if in thought, but in reality just hiding a smile. 

Trunks turned back to his desk, but paused as he didn't hear the door close behind his "secretary". "Yes, Ms. Pan? Is there something I forgot to mention?" 

She smiled sweetly at him. "Yes, actually. You're just misusing my name, that's all." 

Trunks's head snapped up, his eyes wide. He blinked innocently, baffled. 

"I am?" 

"Yes…it's not 'Ms. _Pan_', Mr. Briefs. It's 'Ms. _Son_'." 

Trunks felt his face catch fire. 

"Oh…yes…I'm sorry, Ms. P—Son." 

She smiled again and moved to leave. "Quite alright Mr. Briefs. It's been a long week, and it didn't do any harm." 

She slipped out, closing the door behind her, smiling broadly at the wall across from her as she heard the door click shut, stifling giggles. 

On the other side of the door, Trunks glowered at her departure. 

_She did that _intention_ally_. 

Mr. Summers was chuckling as he dialed his office overseas and asked his secretary to fax him the blueprints at Capsule Corps. Trunks merely watched as he did, shocked by the man's sudden transformation from shy and awkward, to suddenly sure of himself and comfortable. 

"Mr. Summers?" he asked as the man placed his celphone back into his jacket. 

The man looked back up at him warmly, then smiled again. 

"I'm sorry, Mr. Briefs. It's just so obvious that neither you nor Ms. Son are used to formalities between you." 

Trunks rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, suddenly feeling as if he and the older man had switched places. 

"Well, no…not really," he confessed, his façade of knowing what he was doing falling away. He glanced back up at the man, and felt all emotion fall from his face as the man's eyes made it all to clear that he _found_ Trunks smitten with the dark haired secretary. "She's my sister's best friend, and mine too, I guess you could say…" 

The old man chuckled. "By the looks of it, she's more than your best friend." 

Trunks felt his face flush even redder, and resisted the urge to clean his glasses with a silent curse. 

"We're here on business, Mr. Summers, not my personal life."

******************************  
A/N: *groans* How many more of these things do I have left to post tonight? *goes back and counts* One more! And at least 10 after that....like I said. If you don't like the length, that's your problem. I'm not gonna skimp out b/c my story's too long; 'sides, half of these chapters are barely one typed page anyways. PT ain't that long. 

-Panabelle ;P  
Shrine of the Saiyan Squirt


	67. Chapter 66: Revelation

Disclaimer: *standing frazzled and exhausted as her muses fly in circles around her hair, Jack chasing the angel (Saraneth) and swinging the sign reading "Panabelle owns all! Sue her! Sue her!" at her* 

A/N: Sorry about the little rant in the last chapter, couldn't much help it, that's just been bugging me lately, and it kinda popped out. Sorry if I offended any of you. Anyhoo, this is my last chapter for tonight, also for a while, so be sure to leave a review; I'll thank you all for them with new chapters before xmas. 

******************************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 66

  
  


Videl rubbed her husband's shoulders, pressing her cheek against his temple, scratching his head. 

"It's ok, Gohan. Shh…it's ok, I understand…" 

"Like _hell_, you understand!" he roared, ripping away from her. 

Videl drew back in fear, swallowing thickly, never having seen Gohan turn on her like this. 

"Gohan…" 

"_No_, Videl, you _don't_ understand! You've _been_ a daughter before, you're a _mother_ now. You don't know what it's like for me to watch my little girl grow up! To watch her grow up with_out_ me! _I do_. Because _she has_. I've missed too many years of her life to be a good father. I—" 

He broke into a cough, eyes wide, face pale. He stared at her, betrayed, as she sat in front of him, arms braced and crossed in front of her, fists formed, ready to hit him again if necessary. Her gentle blue eyes were like ice, her jaw was set. He stared at her before raising a hand an wiping away the blood she'd drawn when he'd bit his tongue. 

"Gohan," she murmured warningly, her voice low and leaving no room for interruption. He suddenly knew what his daughter had felt like whenever she'd pissed off Videl. Slowly, she lowered her fists as he leaned his elbows back against his knees pushing his hands into his hair and gripping his scalp. 

"Gohan, I _do_ understand. I'm her _mother_, for Dende's sake. While I might not necessarily understand ex_act_ly what you're going through, I understand well enough to know that it's tearing you apart. And to know that you're beating yourself up over _nothing_." 

"_Nothing?!_" he exclaimed, his eyes flashing green. 

Her eyes grew hard again, and he quickly reined his anger. 

"Yes, Gohan, _nothing_. So our little girl is all grown up; we both knew it was going to happen, and we both saw it coming. She's been grown up for years." 

"But Videl, she used let me be her father. She didn't disappear for years on end, not even days! When she had a problem, she came to _me_, when something was bothering her, she didn't lock it up inside. She…Videl, she's wearing _dresses_ now, _skirts_ too. Our little Panny never did that." 

"She did too, Gohan. Maybe she fought me and ChiChi when we tried to put her into one, and maybe she felt ridiculous wearing them, but she _liked_ them. It was a game between us. On days when it was just me and her in the house, she'd come find me with this dress she wanted, or that she thought she'd like; it'd just be a picture of it, but she could really see herself in it. And I would try to make it, or I'd take it to your mother, blubbering about how adorable I thought my little girl would be in it, and ChiChi would make a dress just like it, only in a color more flattering to Pan. And then we'd push and pull and fight her into it. And the next time Pan and I were alone in the house, she'd come thank me, but tell me she didn't have anyplace to wear it until Bulma threw another party; I'd go crying to ChiChi, ChiChi would go harass Bulma, and the party would be thrown, me and ChiChi fighting Panny into the dress again. It was a game with us. It still is. So don't tell me she never wore dresses or skirts. More times than I remember, I'd come home and find her in her room, twirling about in one of the dresses in her closet, looking at herself in the mirror and looking so happy. As soon as anyone came home, though, she was scrambling to get back into her jeans, stuttering out that she had just come home from a spar or a long day of school and that she wanted to change into a clean set of clothes." 

Gohan stared at her, then lowered his head. "Ok, but she never—" 

"And don't give me that bull about how she never disappeared for years or days. We both know it isn't true. She kidnapped Trunks and your father when she was 14 and didn't come home for a year. She and your brother would disappear for days on end, occasionally coming home _only for food_." 

Gohan sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose, his eyes closed. 

Videl reached over and put a hand to either side of his head, pressing a kiss to his forehead. He blinked, and looked up at her, his eyes so depressed they seemed emotionless. "Videl…" 

She pressed her fingers against his lips and kissed his forehead again. 

"And she does let you be her father; she's too much of a daddy's girl to survive without you Gohan. And don't say that isn't true because she wouldn't have called once a week from California if it weren't." 

He looked at her, pained, and lowered his eyes. When he spoke, his voice was so wreaked with emotion that it came out as hardly a whisper. "But Videl, she keeps throwing all of these things in my face from when she was over there; I know she doesn't mean to, but she does. I mean…the tattoo, the drinking, the…I don't know, just the total change in her character. I never in my wildest dreams thought my little girl could grow up to be so…so excited by life, so ready to live, and so utterly gorgeous, and yet so depressed, lonely, and hesitant to be herself. I never wished this on her, but I can't help but feel this is all my fault because I didn't do a good enough job protecting her. Because I didn't teach her not to care what others think." 

Videl stood, pulling on his arm in attempt to bring him to his feet as well. He looked up at her, suddenly feeling like he was back in high school, Videl pulling on him to go fight crime, or to face his mother because he missed a single point on a meaningless quiz. He let her drag him to his feet, then followed mutely, blankly, as she started running towards the edge of the lookout, waving good-bye to Dende and Piccolo and Mr. Popo as they ran, then jumping off the edge. 

Gohan was so caught up in her guiding him, that when they started falling and didn't stop, he began to panic and stared at her as she wormed her hand free and turned to look up at him. 

"Videl!" he cried. "Are you crazy?" 

She smiled up at him. 

"Oh no, I've forgotten how to fly," she yelled back, sarcastically. 

"Videl! I'm serious! The Lookout isn't that far off the ground! No games!" 

"Then _you_ fly, you big idiot, and lead me for the first time since we were kids!" 

Gohan blinked, suddenly realizing that she was right. He had been so worried about being a good father, of taking care of her and his little girl, that he had never really taken charge and had been a doormat for most of his marriage. 

For most of his life. 

His mother had wanted him to become a scholar; he'd done it. She'd wanted him to study; he'd studied tirelessly no matter how exhausted he was nor the situation his life was in. Videl had wanted him let her to fight with him; he'd relented. She'd been antsy about how committed he was; he'd married her. His mother hadn't wanted him to move away; he moved in next door. Pan wanted to learn how to fight; he'd taught her. Videl wanted him at home; he'd requested to be allowed to work outside of the office. Pan wanted to go to college in California, Videl wanted him to let her; he'd allowed it knowing Pan wouldn't come home until after graduation. Videl threatened a night on the couch; he did whatever it was she wanted. 

Blinking, he looked down at his wife. 

"Grow up Gohan. Grow up, and you'll understand, I promise." 

He smiled down at her, then shot forward, encasing her in his arms and rocketing up and into the air, going as fast as he could, then breaking into super saiyan, going faster and then tearing into the second level. Videl laughed and screamed, and he felt like they were kids again, starting their romance and being so quirkily inept at being in love that no one knew until he'd proposed though it'd been terribly obvious. 

He froze, righting himself in the air and staring out over the trees that lead to their house. His face grew hard and taut, his expressions glazing over with emotionless hate. 

"Gohan?" 

His only response was a low and guttural growl.

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A/N: That's it for me for a while, so be sure to review and tell me what you thought. Btb, the reason I just posted 7 chapters at once, is because my site received it's 10000th hit earlier in the week, and I wanted to thank the ppl who go there. Anywho, don't expect a lot for me for a while; I have a report to work on all next week, AP English homework, and next weekend is when we break out the xmas stuff...believe me when I say that it's a 48 hour event. The week after that I'm leaving for Las Vegas from the 8th to the 11th, so don't expect _anything_ until at least the 13th. Yeah, that's about it. Just be sure to review. 

"All will be explained in time, and time is coming to an end."  
-Panabelle 

-Panabelle ;P  
Shrine of the Saiyan Squirt


	68. Chapter 67: Apple Pie

Disclaimer: You've probably all forgotten that I don't own DB-anything...it _has_ been a long time...I don't. *slaps hand over Jack's mouth before he can say anything* 

A/N: *waves a white flag over the top of her desk* Yes, yes, I know I know! You win! I'm updating! 

Sorry about the fact that it's been well over a month...I've been busy. My challenge, which went very well, thank you, was more time consuming then I anticipated, and all of my teachers decided it was time to finally start assigning work again. Add in Xmas, and sheer inability to find the right words, and there ya go. But I'm updating! I am! See? See? *points anxiously below* Ok, so the next couple chapters aren't the best in this 'epic' (someone told me this has gone beyond epic, I can't think of another word, 'cause it sure as hell ain't just a story anymore!), but they're something. And they're leading into Thursday night! (*My _God!_ You mean I've been working on this thing for nearly a year and still haven't gotten through the work week? Gah!*) Yay for me! Hopefully I'll be able to write some more shortly...shortly being before Valentine's day. ;P 

*****************************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 67

  
  


Gohan walked into the small house, a slight smile that suggested intended pain settled on his lips. 

Videl followed him in, closing the door and quietly moving in a beeline for the kitchen, unaware of what had struck Gohan's oft-overworking mind, but completely alert to the fact that something uncharacteristically evil was taking place in the mind of the saiyan scholar. 

"ChiChi?" she called, moving into the room, hearing Gohan enter behind her. The beautiful doll that belonged to Goku, the doll that looked to be made of china but was seemingly made of diamond, was nowhere to be seen. 

An apple pie, beautifully rescued as only ChiChi could have done, sat cooling on a cooling rack on the counter, two others sitting next to it in perfect order; one a simple, normal sized pie, the other two large, but nothing compared to the pies that had once been made for Goku. 

A small card was leaned up against the smallest of the pies; one word, five simple letters, written on it. 

"Videl, why, do you think, would Pan and Trunks want my mother at Capsule Corps?" came her husband's voice, oddly amused by still innocently naïve, from behind her. 

"What do you mean?" she asked, turning back to glance at him as he stood in front of the open refrigerator, the milk carton in one hand, a taped note in the other. _Leave it to ChiChi to put a note in the first place Gohan would go._

Gohan glanced at her over his glasses with a bewildered smile, then glanced back down at the note in his hand. "'Gohan, Pan called shortly after Videl went after you, requesting I bring a meal for her and Trunks. I would have waited for you to fly me over there, but Goten got home early and was all too willing to escort me since the trip included food. I will be home shortly; I intend to spend some time with my granddaughter, and I have a feeling Trunks and Goten have a few issues to work out. Ask Videl to start dinner and I'll do my best to brink Pan home with me. Love you both, Mom.'" 

Videl shrugged, not quite understanding the amused glint in his eyes. "They're hungry; it's four in the afternoon, and according to what you told me, neither had anything to eat for breakfast. Besides, you know how Trunks usually calls, begging ChiChi make an extra plate for him at dinner or that she find some way to bring him food." She chuckled quietly. "Humans can only live so long on Bulma's cooking; I've decided it's not nearly as long for you saiyans." 

Gohan laughed and moved to the cupboard, pulling out a glass and pouring himself some milk. He moved back to the table and sat down, setting the carton in front of him and raising the glass to his lips, glancing at the note again as he did. 

Videl watched him, happy that he'd finally found his happiness again, then turned back to the tag ChiChi had made for the pie she'd saved. 

"Videl."

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A/N: And yes, I do like pie. REVIEW! (please) 

-Panabelle ;P  
Shrine of the Saiyan Squirt


	69. Chapter 68: ChiChi and Mini-me

Dislcaimer: And now, a special guest appearance by the owner of DBZ! *Panabelle is shoved onstage by her demonic Jack-muse* Shit! Jack! Get your horny little butt back here, I need to kill you! 

A/N: Something I forgot to mention in my notes last chapter; Thank you everyone who's been emailing me in the past couple days to get off my lazy butt and write. I'll actually admit that I was so caught up in original stuff, I forgot I even had PT going!, but I won't forget so soon again! I promise! Speaking of my original stuff, go read _Tears of Blood_. *shameless plug* 

******************************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 68

  
  


"_WHAT?!?_" 

Trunks swallowed and backed hastily away, hands up in front of him, body bent over backwards in attempt to keep Pan from his throat. Pan leaned in for the kill, eyes savage and teeth bared. 

"Pan, calm down-" 

"_TRUNKS!!!_" she roared. Trunks scrambled backwards, tripping over his desk in the process and landing in a terrified heap on the other side. He jumped up with a shot, quickly making sure to keep the desk between them as a black-haired, blue eyed, miniature ChiChi stared him down from the other side. 

"Pan, listen, I can explain!" he started hurriedly, having seen Goku squirm his way out of ChiChi's wrath more than enough times to pull it off. 

"You have three seconds," she growled, leaning forward on the desk, gripping the edge with her hands. 

He winced as the wood cracked. 

_Note to self: I'm not Goku and Pan's stronger than ChiChi._

"Three…Two…" 

Suddenly remembering that he had three seconds-now one-to save his neck, Trunks started sputtering as quickly as he could, almost not caring if she could understand him because he knew she wouldn't care the reason. 

"Pan, he's an old client and my mom's friend; he has kids and grandchildren to suppor-" 

"_Time's up!_" she thundered. 

Trunks cowered behind his swivel chair, prepared to bolt to either side of the desk when she came after him so that the desk would remain between them. 

"Don't kill me?" he whimpered, waiting to see which way she'd dart. 

Pan screamed, lifted the desk off the ground and heaved it at the wall. 

"Oh shit." 

With an animalistic cry of rage that would have made both ChiChi and Bulma proud to tears, Pan launched herself at the son of the mighty prince, knocking him to the ground with his chair, pinning him beneath her, and wrapping her hands around his neck. 

"You promised me we wouldn't be here all night! That I could eat with my family, sleep in my bed, and get home at a decent hour!" she cried, banging his head against the floor of the office every few syllables in a steady rhythm until his tongue lolled out of his mouth and his eyes flopped about in his head as she shook him; and even then she didn't stop. 

"I hate you! You arrogant, self-serving, obstinate, son of a-_eep!_" She broke off into a scream and jumped high enough to cling to the light fixture on the ceiling as there came a tapping at the glass. 

Trembling, she stared wide-eyed at the tappers; Trunks recovered his senses and turned to the window, jumping up and eagerly letting ChiChi and her two banquet-sized picnic baskets into the office, completely oblivious to Goten's presence. 

"Food, as promised," ChiChi announced, setting the baskets down as Goten placed her on the ground. Trunks scooped her up, swinging her around like a doll. 

"Wonderful, wonderful woman!" he sang, twirling around the room with her. 

Goten rolled his eyes at the spectacle of his best friend and mother, and turned to face his niece. 

"Did we scare you Panny?" 

Humilated, Pan extracted herself from the light fixture and lowered herself to the floor. 

"Hi, Uncle Goten." 

She was immediately smothered in a hug only Goten knew how to give, nearly swallowed whole by his arms and chest. 

"Uncle Goten!" she screamed into his shirt, laughing, her voice coming out as a giggle. "I love you too, but this is ridiculous!" 

Laughing, he released her, holding her arms-length and eye-level in front of him so that she dangled helplessly like a child; her toes were inches from the ground as they smiled at each other. 

"You _do_ know I'm not six anymore, _right_, Uncle Goten?" 

In the background, ChiChi smacked Trunks as they twirled. 

He laughed again, his black eyes sparkling through the black hair that hung in his face. 

"It's just been a while since I've seen you, that's all, Pan-Pan." 

Her happy face dropped into one of violent intentions. "Call me that again and I'll be forced to destroy you." 

Goten shook his head and chuckled, his eyes closing and his smile taking over the whole of his face. 

"It'd take her seriously if I were you, and not piss her off. I've already seen my life flash before my eyes four times in the past 2 hours," Trunks piped up, looking up from one of the picnic baskets. ChiChi promptly smacked him on the back of the head. 

Goten glanced back at him shyly as he rubbed the back of his head, not quite sure what to say to his once-best friend. 

"I'm not done with you yet, either," Pan cut in, her eyes flashing angrily. "You promised I wouldn't have to spend another night in this office, then you turn right around and promise Mr. What's-his-face I would!" 

"That's not my fault and you know it, Pan," Trunks replied, suddenly brave with others there, but still unable to meet her gaze; "And I'm not making you go to dinner with him tomorrow night, so stop complaining." 

Her face darkened and her eyes turned almost black. 

"Don't plan on sleeping tonight." 

"Don't think about napping until you explain that sister comment to me." 

Pan glared. 

Trunks glared back. 

Pan bared her teeth. 

Trunks broke into a sweat. 

Pan growled. 

Trunks began to look nervously for an escape route. 

Goten set Pan down. 

Trunks sprinted past them to retrieve the remains of his desk. 

Goten stared back and forth between the two before side-stepping past his niece to help Trunks gather and reassemble the wood, the two working together awkwardly. 

Pan remained where Goten had set her, turning her head to keep the brunt of her glare on the purple-haired half-saiyan. ChiChi merely watched, waiting to empty the picnic baskets.

* * *

Forty-five minutes later, most of the food was gone, with the exception of an apple pie and two bunches of grapes. 

"So, Panny, any boyfriends in California?" Goten asked as he and the other two semi-saiyans stared almost drooling at the last pie. 

"Guy friends, but no boyfriends. Just some guy I roomed with for a while." 

"That Jack guy," Trunks supplied. 

"Jack mean anything to you?" Goten asked, his gaze so deep he seemed to be counting the sugar and cinnamon grains on the apple slices. 

"Yeah. My sanity." 

"Food," Trunks replied. 

ChiChi closed her eyes and shook her head, setting an empty platter in the bottom of the second basket. They'd been at this for half an hour, Goten asking a question, Pan replying, Trunks tossing out some random comment that some how managed to both elaborate on Pan's answer and oddly answer Goten's question. They never went out of order; it was absolutely amazing. 

She glanced over at them, Pan sitting cross-legged on the desk, Trunks in his swivel chair, Goten in one of the padded chairs opposite from Trunks. All three just sat there staring at the last pie, each waiting for the perfect moment to tackle it when the others wouldn't expect it, staring at it as if it were a holy idol. 

If she didn't know better, she'd accuse them of trying to eat the pastry with their eyes. 

Actually, she _did_ know better, and yet she would _still_ accuse them of trying to eat it with their eyes. 

They were all part saiyan, of course they were trying to. 

"So…" 

Pan lifted a hand, yawning into the back of it, displaying the bandage on her palm from her run-in with Trunks' windshield to all the occupants of the office. 

ChiChi narrowed her eyes, seeing Trunks' name all over the bandage. 

"Alright young lady, what happened?" she demanded. 

Pan tore her gaze from the pie, looking to her grandmother with large, perplexed eyes. 

"Huh? What do you mean, Grandma?" 

ChiChi marched over and grabbed the girl's wrist, yanking her off the desk. 

"Oh. That." 

ChiChi then proceeded to drag her towards Trunk's private bathroom. Pan panicked, suddenly aware that she was being dragged away from the pie, and tried to claw her way back to it, quite unsuccessfully. 

"Grandma, hang on, just-no! I can't-" 

"The pie will still be there when we get back. I want to clean this, now." 

With one last whimper, Pan and ChiChi were gone, the door slamming shut behind them. 

A moment later, in perfect unison, Trunks and Goten became aware that Pan was no longer there. Blinking, both raised their heads and turned to look at the missing daughter of Gohan, each keeping the pie in their peripheral vision. Each rolled an eye in to meet the other's gaze, their faces following until the two met in a head on stare for the first time in four years. 

"So…" 

"…Yeah…"

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A/N: Rico ran around the rig, ready to REVIEW. 

*hint hint* 

-Panabelle ;P  
Shrine of the Saiyan Squirt


	70. Chapter 69: Only Three Options

Disclaimer: And now...a scene from Freakazoid. "BUZZBEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" 

A/N: Do. Not. Ask. Thalt shall not like the answer. 

*******************************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 70

Bulma sat on the railing to the balcony of her and Vegeta's room, looking down into the yard as her husband pushed himself towards the inevitable breaking point, which blessedly had yet to come, but that would. 

She'd come home hours ago, intending to talk to her husband about the problems-problem, it seemed-belonging to her son and her goddaughter. But all it took was one look at her husband to blow that idea out of the water. She'd promised both of them that she wouldn't speak to anyone, especially Vegeta, and more importantly Gohan. She wasn't about to go back on that promise. But what Pan had said that morning still lingered in her mind, and the state Pan had been in when she and Trunks had finally gotten to work had worried her further, and _still_ worried her. 

Below her, Vegeta froze in mid-kick, suddenly aware of the eyes that watched him. Slowly he lowered his leg and looked around, scanning each of the windows before coming to the balcony where she sat. He stood there for a moment, looking up at her, and for a moment she toyed with the idea of dropping something or reenacting the infamous _Romeo and Juliette_ scene; _Romeo, oh Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo…_

He stood there for another moment, then gave one last kick at his invisible opponent before shrugging and moving into the house. 

Bulma sighed and leaned back against the wall behind her, stretching her legs out along the railing. 

_I scare myself sometimes…I…I get angry, and I want to hurt and kill something, and I don't care if that something deserved it or not._

"Could this have anything to do with Trunks? Or is she just really that lost?" Bulma murmured to herself, leaning her head back against the smooth wall of the house, closing her eyes against the sun as it warmed her. But not even the rays of the sun could warm the chill in her bones. 

"What about the brat and who's lost, Woman?" 

Bulma jumped, nearly falling off the balcony, but caught herself at the last minute. White-knuckled and red-faced, she lowered herself safely to the balcony floor and turned to face her husband, bringing back a hand and slapping him. To her surprise, he didn't catch her fist or dodge her blow, instead taking it and letting his head turn so that she didn't hurt herself. 

"Woman." 

Bulma looked at him, then turned and walked forward, leaning against the railing and over the lawn below. There was a moment in which Vegeta cleared his throat, and then he moved forward, coming up next to her and leaning back against the railing, crossing his arms over his chest and tilting back his head as he looked at the clouds above. 

"It's nothing Vegeta, it's just been a long week so far, that's all." 

He snorted mockingly, as if laughing at her. "If you're going to lie, Woman, at least sound like you believe it." 

She turned her head to glare at him out of the corner of her eye, watching as the smirk on his face seemed to shiver. After a moment, she turned back to the view below, looking out over the green trees along the back of their property that separated them from the streets and highways beyond. 

"If you're going to call me 'Woman', make it sound like an insult so that I can yell at you." 

They fell silent again, Bulma looking out over the green lawns and greener trees, at the red, heart-shaped splots in the branches that were the apples grown from the seeds Goku had given her when they were still kids. Vegeta gazed up at the light blue skies, skies that contrasted perfectly with Bulma's eyes, and matched her hair to a tee. 

"Pan's changed, Vegeta. And somehow, her changing has changed Trunks. And I've racked my brain-_wrecked_ my brain-over it all week and I can't figure it out," Bulma sighed after a moment. She picked nervously at a stray thread on the cuff of her sleeve, then just gave up. "Vegeta, I don't know what's going on, and I can't help but think that part of you does." 

He blinked. That was all he did. A simple blink, and then he looked at her. 

In frustration, she shoved herself violently away from the railing and whirled to face him, throwing up her hands in his face. 

"Dammit, Vegeta! Don't do this to me! Our son is convinced that he used Pan, Pan's so head-over-heels for him she can't look at him, and not to mention that damned episode between you and her last Saturday-and when the _hell_ are you going to fix that wall?!" 

Vegeta took a step back and sideways, finding himself pinned against the railing to their balcony. Bulma stepped closer, gripping handfuls of his shirt in her fists, showing a surprising amount of strength and pulling the prince's face nose-to-nose with hers. 

"Start talking, Veggie-head, 'cause I know you know something," she threatened. 

Suddenly afraid of the woman he had mated with and eventually married, Vegeta swallowed thickly, amazed at how…utterly psy_cho_tic…his wife had become since she'd left for work less than 5 hours ago. The only other time he'd seen her like this was when he'd practically 'killed' the brat when he'd been 6. Back then, she'd almost physcially ripped his head from his shoulders while shaking his temples and asking him how he could have been such a 'pathetic moron'. 

Obviously, something was up with the boy again; Vegeta'd known that from the moment Gohan's daughter had left the country, but had said nothing, hoping Bulma wouldn't notice. When the boy had started acting up, Vegeta had quietly let it pass, remembering his own inner madness when trying to come to terms with the fact that he was madly in love with a woman who belonged to a planet he wanted to obliterate. But Bulma had gone offhinge when she'd finally realized there was something going on; he hadn't blamed her. Trunks was to her as Bra was to him. 

He blinked again, staring into the deep blue eyes of the woman who'd born him children, and seeing the terrified and irrational rage inside of them. 

"Vegeta…." 

He swallowed. 

As he saw it, he had three options; one, sit her down and explain that he knew virtually nothing of the situation. That would not go over well with her in this state, and it wasn't something he really wanted to admit. 

Two, try and get her into bed; however, she'd have him at her mercy eventually, and then he'd have to sit her down and explain that he knew virtually nothing of the situation. 

Three, escape over the side of the railing. There were two problems with this option, the major one being that he didn't think he could muster the happy thought to fly away, and the devastating one being that she'd refuse to feed him. Until he sat her down and explained that he knew virtually nothing of the situation. 

With an inward groan, he knew that he only really had one option.

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A/N: I can't do Bulma-Vegeta too well...eh. I tried. Anyhoo, hopefully it won't take me another month to get out the next chapter. *suddenly wishing she had copped out on this, simply because it's **70 freakin' chapters and still going**.* Not that I'm complaining about the length, just complaining about the fact that I'm exhausted and I'm babbling right now so I'm going to shut up, hide in the chat room, and pray I don't get flamed, although flames are always welcome. 

-Panabelle ;P  
Shrine of the Saiyan Squirt


	71. Chapter 70: Double Negative

Disclaimer: It's mine! It's all mine! It's mine! It's mine! 

A/N: Sorry about that, been spending too much time in the chat room tonight...ugh. I'm going through a mental breakdown here. Anyways, I uploaded all of this a lot faster then I did the last time, right? Btb, about these next three chapters...I seriously think I've forgotten how to write. 

****************************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 70

  
  


Cautiously, he reached up, unprying her hands from his shirt and forcing her to lower them as gently as he could, careful not to startle her, for a single shock could set her off and he'd be killed in the blast. Her eyes were hard and dark, but still startlingly blue, all the reassurance he needed that she was depending on him for an explanation and that once he gave it to her, she'd relax and everything would be alright. 

With a deep breath, he forced himself to relax, to let concern mingle with the muscles under his face, so that expression could be hinted at but not seen. 

"Bulma," he started, looking down into her eyes, steering her back a step so that he could ease away from the balcony railing. "Bulma, what makes you think I know what's going on?" 

"Because you always know what's going on, Vegeta!" She paused, and in that instant, something behind her eyes seemed to snap in half, and her voice rose in pitch and volume, her entire body growing rigid and stiff, her fists closing tightly around his hands. "Don't tell me you don't know what's going on Vegeta; if you can always know where all the missing socks are, you _have_ to know what's going on!" 

He allowed himself to wince, and gently pulled his hands free, letting her squeeze his fingers all she wanted. 

"It's not so much that I always _know_ what's going on, Bulma," he started quietly, not knowing if it was safe to look into her eyes or if he should look at her, or if he should just close his eyes and pray; "it's more like I always _understand_ what's going on." 

A tremor ran through her and she hurled herself forwards, slamming him into the railing, her hands tightly wound up in his shirt again, her eyes fierce and rabid. 

"_Vegeta!_" 

Swallowing thickly, he suddenly wished that he had leapt from the balcony and flown away, happy thought be damned. But he had started this, and the prince of saiyans always finished what he started. 

"Bulma. I… I used to kill people for the hell of it. I used to relish in their pain, and knew by the looks on their faces how to get the most pain out of them, and how to keep them alive long enough to relish it; I knew when they were useless for information or for entertainment. I taught myself to read people. I used to be ruthless, you know that." 

She snarled before attacking him again. 

"_Used_ to be?! _Used!_ to be?! Damn you, you _relish_ in _my_-" 

"It's never that I know exactly what's going on with either of our brats, with Kakarot's brats, or his son's brat," he cut in. "I just read their expressions and know when they're vulnerable and when they're not." 

Bulma shivered again in anger, shoving him farther over the balcony. 

"Then how the hell do you always _know_ exactly what the hell is going on?!" 

Vegeta carefully took her hands in his again and steered her back a step, easing away from the railing once more. It was hard for him to admit all of this to her, but he knew that it was hard for her to not understand what was going on with their son; he could relate. Every time Bra came home heartbroken, all he wanted to do was go out and kill the bastard, but Bulma would never let him until he knew who to kill. And now, here she was, needing to lash out at something, but having nothing to lash out at. 

"Educated guesses," he told her quietly, only to find himself being bullied against the railing once more, his wife just short of criminally insane. 

"Then why the hell don't you make one of your Dende damned 'educated guesses' right now, Monkeyman, before I teach you how to breathe dirt." 

Terrified now and rightfully so, Vegeta leaned away from his mate, bracing his hands against the railing behind him, keeping his face as far from his vicious and snarling wife as possible. 

"I can't, Bulma. Usually the brats will drop enough hints for me to piece together a picture where all I need to do to see the whole thing is drop in a few carefully placed words. But Bra knows nothing, Pan's avoiding me, and Trunks is never home to pry into. What's there to guess at?" 

Bulma snarled again, leaning her face closer to him then he felt comfortable with; beads of sweat ran down his temple and his eyes began to dart to the sides, looking for an escape path that she knew he wouldn't take. He was too proud to run away. 

"So, you smashing Pan last Saturday at her _welcome home party_ had _nothing_ to do with your _damned 'educated guesses'_?!!?" she shrieked. 

Suddenly not so patient with her, he ripped away from her grasp and shoved her back a step. 

"_No_, Woman, it didn't. I wanted to know how strong she'd gotten since she'd been gone; that brat is more saiyan then either of my heirs, and I was curious!" 

Bulma snarled again. "Like _hell_, 'Your Highness'! You were watching her all evening, and had that damned smirk on your face that you have when you _know_ something!" 

"I _always_ 'smirk', Woman! I'm abhor those _stupid_ gatherings of yours, and I was plotting a way out of it!" 

She growled again, sticking her face into his. 

"Then what the hell was up with that 'low class, never-amount-to-nothing, spawn of Kakarot, fighter bitch in heat' bullshit you gave to Pan, hmm? Vegeta, you _shattered_ the girl with that comment, you know that? ChiChi called me, told me the girl didn't sleep, that Gohan had to sit with her all night, and that when Bra picked her up the next morning, she was still shaken and near tears!" 

Vegeta snorted. "Gohan didn't sleep either for about a week after he broke the barrier and became a Super Saiyan." 

"_Vegeta!_ Why the hell did you even call her that!" Now was his turn to snarl. "Because she slapped my little girl and no one, _no one!_ is ever to hit her, not even me! It's not my fault that brat responded to my proddings! I was just trying to figure why in the name of that little green bastard guarding this forsaken planet she slapped her! And all I could think of at the time was to provoke her in the one why that I knew she'd respond to! And she did!" 

"_And!_" Bulma shrieked, a vein in the side of her neck pounding out the tempo to some fast and dramatic orchestral piece. 

"And it's obvious she thinks she's in love with the brat, and I tried to tell her that as far as _I_ was concerned, if he asked her, she was free to accept him with no reprimand or reprisal from me!" 

Bulma blinked and took a step back, her eyes the size of small beach balls, the right pupil miniscule, the left seemingly filling all of her eye. "But then…why did you call her a 'low class, never-amount-to-nothing, spawn of Kakarot, fighter bitch in heat'"? 

He shrugged. "She is low class: Kakarot's father was a third class warrior; after the strength and honor her grandfather displayed, you'd think it'd be a compliment. And she's a fighter, whether or not her attitude's changed; if she wasn't, she wouldn't have been so inclined to punch me." His eyes narrowed, but with oddly-placed pride instead of anger. "Nor would she have been able to land that punch." 

Bulma blinked again. "But you called her…" 

"'A fighter bitch in heat'? Of course. She fights, and she's the spawn of Kakarot's devil mate." 

"But the-" 

"She's twenty-one and a virgin. You can't say she doesn't think about it." 

Bulma was staggering under the sudden revelation of what Vegeta's words had actually meant; to think that her husband had suddenly set aside his grudge against Goku and had set it far enough aside as to be proud that if their son was in love with her, he'd have Pan as a daughter-in-law. Nevermind how he knew she was still a virgin, probably had something to do with that 'saiyans mate for life' crap he'd been feeding her all these years, even _if_ Pan _was_ more human then saiyan. Grinding her teeth, she pressed one last point. 

"But you called her a 'never-amount-to-nothing', Vegeta." 

He smirked, turning and moving into the house. 

"_Never_ amount to _nothing_. Double negative," he called over his shoulder triumphantly. 

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A/N: Don't review. I don't even think I want to claim any of this anymore. 

-Panabelle :|   
Shrine of the Saiyan Squirt


	72. Chapter 71: Halves

Disclaimer: It is I, Chibi Trunks, here to tell you all that I still hold Panabelle's heart, not that Jack thing she insists on letting fly around. *is startled by a flying demonic teenaged boy barely his size* What the-? *is chased away by an irate Jack* 

A/N: Bleb bleb bleb. Nothing to say, nothing to do, so I'll leave the readings up to you. 

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Petrified Tears  
chapter 71

  
  


Pan followed her grandmother back into the office, pleasantly surprised at how good her hands felt-practically healed since she'd first run her fingernails into them almost a week ago. 

_Dende_, to think it's hardly been a week, she thought to herself, mentally shaking her head as she closed the door behind them and turned to face Trunks and Goten. 

The two sat there, shyly chucking grapes at each other, Trunks catching in his mouth whatever Goten threw, and vice versa. But it wasn't a friendly game of 'catch the grape', no. This was _throwing_-the-grape-with-saiyan-strength 'catch the grape', each chucking it just hard enough not to kill the other should the other catch it wrong. 

The pie still sat untouched, the two avoiding each other's gaze as they threw the grapes simply to pass the time. 

She heard ChiChi sigh and mumble "Hopeless" under her breath, before moving deeper into the office towards one of her picnic baskets. 

"Guys?" Pan called, walking up to the edge of the desk and settling herself back onto it, crossing her legs underneath her as before, watching each of them as they kept their eyes on the bunch of grapes in their own hands, catching the other's grapes by pure instinct. 

Instantly, they stopped and snapped their heads up, blue eyes catching black eyes. The two men sat there for a moment before Goten bared his teeth and Trunks glared back. Simultaneously, both bunches of grapes exploded under the strength of the half-saiyans' fists. 

"Um….Trunks? Uncle Goten?" 

No response. 

"Uh, guys? Hello? Come on you two, you're starting to scare me now…" 

One of Goten's eyes twitched, a small growl forming in his throat. Trunks snarled quietly, his own eye twitching. Pan felt an invisible and unnatural wind stir around them, swirling paper around the desk as if in a whirlwind as the two slowly powered up. 

"Oh for the love of Dende, not again," she moaned, taking her head into her hands as both men stood and leaned forward to snarl in the other's face. 

"Alright, I've had just about enough of this," ChiChi, announced from the other side of the desk-turned-table, and in the next instant, a giant cleaver came slashing down between the two men, slicing through the air and half-way through the pie-pan and all. 

Trunks and Goten froze, their faces turned terrified as the knife came between them, both feeling the sides of the blade against the ends of their noses. Pan froze as the end of the knife barely missed her pants and legs. 

The papers around them came to a slow stop in the air as ChiChi straightened herself. "Each of you take half of the pie already; it's time to get home." 

All three semi-saiyans passed out backwards, Pan falling off the desk, Trunks missing his chair, Goten taking his with him to the floor, as the papers drifted quickly down with them. 

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A/N: Yes, I like pie. And yes, sometimes I feel like doing that. But why were Trunks and Goten getting ready to attack each other? Hmm....I don't know....

-Panabelle ;P  
Shrine of the Saiyan Squirt


	73. Chapter 72: Coffee Break

Disclaimer: No one really learns how to play Disney songs. Disney songs are there simply to be ripped apart. 

A/N: Do you have any idea how hard it is to type over a cat that's nearly laying on the keyboard? Just thought I'd toss that one in there... Anyhoo, this chapter is in thanks to everyone who's been reviewing lately; suddenly, I don't feel worthless. Although I was serious a few chapters ago when I made mention of forgetting how to write. Anyhoo, thanks to all of you, and especially to Chris; I have no clue if you're even reading this, but if you are, thanks. 

*********************************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 72

  
  


Trunks sighed, taking off his glasses and setting them on the floor, rubbing his eyes. 

It had been a _long_ day. 

Especially when one considered that yesterday had never really ended. 

With a yawn, he shoved his hands back through his hair, telling his eyes they were going to stay open whether they wanted to or not. They didn't seem to agree with him, so he simply leaned his head back against his desk and prayed for coffee. 

First that whole thing that was yesterday, and then fighting with his father and the realization of what Goten had been getting at all those years ago. Then, getting the daylights scared out of him by Gohan, then another look into Pan's inner self. And then the budgets, the patents, the grants, the meeting with Mr. Summers, the blueprints of the new Capsule Corp airbike, nearly getting killed by Pan, nearly getting killed by ChiChi, and then actually setting to work on the plans for the new light-weight engine Mr. Summers' company was finding glitches in. 

Thank Dende for Pan. 

His hands fell into his lap as he told himself to keep opening his eyes. 

"Here, you look like you need this." 

His eyes fluttered open as the scent of freshmade coffee invaded his senses, his eyes being blessed with the sight of a tired young girl, her dark blue eyes sparkling in the starlight thrown through the window, and the overhead lights being reflected on the glass, kneeling before him. Black hair framed her face, falling down her back from the sloppy half-up-half-down way she'd tied it. 

Blinking furiously, he turned his head to look down at the mug she held between her hands, at the creamy black coffee within, just the color he liked it. 

Just the way he liked it. 

"Thank you, Pan," he mumbled, reaching up slowly to take the warm cup from her hands. He blinked sluggishly, trying to make his eyes focus. She smiled warmly and reached down, setting his glasses on his nose, then leaning forward and kissing him tenderly on the temple. 

Startled, but too tired to do more than smile, Trunks lowered the cup to his lap and turned his head, his nose brushing against and across hers, his eyes closing sluggishly as he lifted a hand to draw her mouth down to his. 

She stiffened and instantly, he came awake, her voice small enough to almost be missed in the suddenly oppressive silence of his office. 

"Didn't you want me to explain my comment from last night?" 

He swallowed thickly and slowly pulled away. She retreated to her nest of paperwork, settling back down into it with a flop, sending papers flying around her like a pillow of dust, her hair coming undone and tumbling around her face. 

"P-pan, I'm sorry, I didn't me-" 

"Do you or don't you want to know," she mumbled quickly, trying to act like nothing had happened, but something inside of her eyes told him differently. 

He sighed and lowered his head, staring down into the coffee cup and feeling like a complete ass. He started to raise the cup to his lips, but broke off and looked up at her, his eyes straining as if to meet hers through her hair. 

"Pan, please, just, I'm-" he broke off, and stared back down into the coffee as she raised her eyes. Once again, he tried to raise the mug to his lips, but at the last minute found himself breaking away into speech. "All of it. Just now, Saturday, Frid-" 

He blinked, finding himself being pushed against the desk by Pan, as she leaned towards him, her fingers pressed against his lips, her other hand cupping his and the coffee mug in his lap, her eyes wide and beseeching. 

"That never happened, Trunks, remember?" she whispered, her voice tight. "We agreed that never happened." 

Trunks sighed and lifted a hand, gently pulling her fingers away, moving his face so that they weren't quite so close. 

"But it did, Pan. We can't pretend it didn't; all week one or the other of us has been mentioning it inadvertently. It _did_ happen. We can't pretend I didn't act like an asshole, or that you didn't act like a five year old. We did. And-" 

"Trunks," she started, but now it was his turn to stop her words. 

"No, Pan. I _did_ kiss you. I _did_ freak afterwards and start acting like an asshole. And-" 

Her fingers cut him off again. 

"That's what I'm talking about Trunks. Everything up until you dumped me in the sand happened…just a simple misunderstanding on my part, and forgetfulness on yours, that just _happened_, and _that_ I don't regret, you don't regret, neither of us do because, oddly, we're closer and things are easier understood now, even if it is a little awkward. But the whole _after_ part…_that's_ what I don't want to admit happening. I don't want to remember that I let myself get stepped on, that I acted as immaturely as I did. I don't want to remember the fact that I thought our friendship was over, that I threatened you with my father's wrath…and I _really_ don't want to admit that anything that happened on Saturday night actually happened." 

Trunks took her hand back into his and shifted, setting the coffee cup next to him and pulling her into his lap. 

"I'm sorry Pan," he whispered. "I know I should have said something when my father was going off on you, and that I shouldn't have acted like an ass again, but I had really meant to apologize…I just…I don't know what I was thinking. I think the problem was that I was thinking too much about the wrong types of things." 

She nodded into his shoulder, and he drew her closer, cradling her much like his mother had cradled him earlier that week, only she wasn't hysterical, nor was he crying. He buried his face into her neck, tightening his arms around her as tight as he dared, surprised at how tightly he could hold her without having to worry about hurting her. 

"I'm sorry Pan," he whispered again. 

She nodded and squirmed an arm free, indicating the coffee cup. 

"You're coffee's getting cold," she told him, using it as an excuse to push herself away and crawl back to her work nest. 

Nodding, he silently took a sip, only to be pleasantly surprised when he wasn't met with the bitter bite of instant coffee. With a refreshed sigh, he turned back to the document before him, the grant he'd signed over to Picame Incorporated. 

"What time is it?" he heard Pan ask a moment later. 

Blinking wearily, he looked up at the clock as he took another drink. 

"About two in the morning." 

Stretching out in into the paperwork she had strewn about her, she yawned, her actions creepily cat-like. 

"Naptime," she mumbled, curling into a ball on top of her notes. 

"No naptime, Pan," he scolded playfully, watching as she made herself comfortable. 

"Yes naptime." 

"I wish it were. But I need to get this done, Pan-we need to get this done…there's no staying late tomorrow, this _absolutely_ needs to get finished…everything else can wait for the weekend to pass. But this presentation bullshit needs to be finished by 9 am tomorrow morning-this morning!-so that I can memorize it and not come off like a completely imbecile at dinner." 

Pan muscled herself onto her elbows, leaning forward and snatching his glasses as he lowered his mug, ignoring the scowl that fell across his face as she placed them on her nose. 

"I thought this was an informal presentation over cocktails." 

"It is. But you know me; I'm not good with impromtu stuff when it's supposed to be informal. I always feel like I'm talking down to the guy. Or woman, on occasion…hellish, occasions…" 

Pan laughed. "You know, if you actually settled down, all of those women would disappear and leave you alone." 

He shook his head. 

"No they wouldn't, that's just wishful thinking. They'd kill my wife and kidnap me. Or just try and seduce me!" 

She raised an eyebrow behind the glasses. 

"You mean they don't try to seduce you now?" He shrugged, rubbing the back of his head. "And like any of them could actually kidnap you." 

His eyes grew wide. "You'd be surprised how resourceful they can be! They have this…this…" he paused long enough to twitch. "It's like Superman and Kryptonite…" He twitched again. 

"Twitch twitch," Pan giggled quietly, watching him. 

Shaking it off, he looked at her. 

"What about you, Panny. You planning on marrying?" 

She shrugged, settling back down, pulling her current page of notes in front of her along with the blue prints. 

"I dunno. I'm not so sure I want to get married; yeah it'd be nice and all, but I'm not so sure. The women in my family have this nasty habit of becoming housewives after marriage. I'll pass on that, thank you." 

He laughed and downed the coffee. "Alright then, what are your plans for the next 20-odd years of your life?" 

"What, are you saying I won't live longer then that?" she teased. He grew red in the face, but she answered him before he could back out of his corner. "I dunno…maybe become a scholar like my dad, maybe find a gig as a trainer-shouldn't be too hard considering my grandfathers. I wouldn't mind just pulling a 'classic Son', catching myself a husband to do the work, build a house in the woods, and spend the day sparring, not very likely nowadays though…I can't say much more then that…anything but an office job." 

Trunks snorted, quickly scribbling down something or other about the contract between Capsule Corps and Picame Inc. "You'd be willing to settle down and be a housewife," he laughed quietly, smirking. 

"I am not! I said _sparring_, not raising children. I mean, yeah, I want kids someday, but not until I'm settled and even then, though they'll be home schooled until high school, I won't be a housewife. I won't cook for my husband every night, won't clean house on a daily basis, I'd be doing things _I_ enjoy…hell, maybe I'll reincarnate the Great Saiyaman." 

He laughed. "You just said so yourself; the women in your family _do_ settle down and become housewives." 

"Trunks-" 

"You're just running around in circles and contradicting yourself." 

"I'm _tired_!" she cried, leaping onto her feet, her eyes straining to focus on him behind the glasses. You contradict yourself all the time, and I don't belittle _you_ for it!" 

He laughed again. 

"Calm down, Pan. I'm just trying to warn you; if you really don't want to become a housewife, don't marry. I remember Videl saying the same thing in the middle of a baby-sitting fiasco where Goten was trying to distract her while I raided the fridge. Six years later, you were born and she was too blown out to care anymore, and settled into the housewife routine." 

"My mother also learned there was a bigger world of violence then she was raised with. Learned that her father's exaggerated tales of battle were nothing compared to some of the realities our families have faced in the last three decades. She realized she was out of her league-not very far out of it, granted, but still in over her head." 

Trunks looked up at her, watching her indigo-blue eyes as they twinkled with her spirit, her black locks of silken midnight as they stirred silently in the gentle breeze drifting in through the window that no one had bothered to close after Goten and ChiChi had left. 

"Pan, the last thing I want to see you do is marry a guy who'd turn you into a housewife. Tradition is sacred in your family, I know that, but you're not the type of girl to settle down and be some guy's servant." 

She blinked profusely, confused, reaching up and pushing his glasses onto the top of her head. "Trunks, what the hell has gotten into you? I mean, first the-the-the-yeah thing, and then you brought up last weekend, and now, you're going off on me getting married? What the hell has gotten into you?" 

He shook his head, setting aside the notebook. Her eyes were more intrigued then irritated, more curious then annoyed. Work was out of the question now, he knew that. 

"I don't know, Panny. I just keep thinking back to what my mother said about me not being married." He winced at his own words and slowly raised himself to his feet. "I-I mean, not that I'm actually thinking of _listening_ to her for once, but it's just, well…I'm curious about what _you're_ going to do. I mean, you just finished school. And I won't say that I'm not feeling old about that, it's just that I want to know what you're going to do with yourself. When you left you wanted nothing more then to come home, find a training gig, and live on unmarried for the rest of your life. Now you're saying that while you don't really want the curses that come with marriage, you want a family. You've changed Pan, and I feel like I don't know parts of you anymore." 

Pan blushed. 

"I haven't met _her_ yet, but I can guarantee you'll find _him_ soon enough. You're too headstrong not to." 

She smiled and settled back into her nest, making herself comfortable. "The only reason you haven't found _her_ yet is you're too terrified of girls to actually take out a girl you like, and not just one of those sluts who attack you on the street and demand dates or death. Show some balls, man!" 

He blushed slightly. "_That_ is what I mean by you'll find _him_. Whether or not he's aware of it." 

She laughed. "Trunks, what I do with my life, I do. I'll be destined for it…you know how it is. You always said you'd never set foot into Capsule Corps for more then a summer, and look at you! President for ten years running!" 

"Don't remind me," he mumbled, sliding back down against the desk, wondering why either of them even bothered to stand up. Or rather, why _she_ stood up; he stood up to better defend himself if he had to. He was still waiting for her to finish her attack on him from earlier that afternoon. 

He knew her; she was probably waiting to lure him into a state of false security before lashing out viciously…. Or she already had. 

Warily, he looked down at the coffee cup. 

"I didn't poison you. I plan on killing you tomorrow evening and taking your paycheck." 

He laughed and reached forward between his legs, grabbing her foot and pulling her forward, turning her around as he did, her form sliding on the paperwork strewn about them, until he had placed her comfortably somewhere between sitting on his lap and sitting between his legs, her back pressed against his chest. Wrapping his arms around her stomach, he pulled his glasses from her face and placed them back on his, propping up one leg and setting a note book on the other as he set half of himself to working, yet turning the other half of him to her. 

"So…you want to explain that sister comment to me yet?" 

"Nope," she said, turning away her face from him and crossing her arms over her chest. "I gave you your chance to hear that story. And you passed it up. Sorry." 

"Pan," he groaned, half believing her. "Please, tell me." 

"No," she laughed, trying to stand up and walk away, only to be pulled back down into his lap. Both laughing, they didn't seem to notice how close they really were, how his nose brushed hers, how his hands held her tightly, or how her hands clutched tenderly at his. They were oblivious to the sudden ease they felt, how all of the ups and downs of the past 10 minutes alone seemed to fade away. 

Trunks smiled, and she smiled with him, both of them mere breaths apart. 

Slowly their laughter subsided; slowly, their eyes opened.

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A/N: Yes. This _is_ a cliff-hanger. Yes, I'm going to leave it like this for a couple days at least. Yes, I know you're all going to hate me for this if you already don't. Review and feel free to flame me about this. 

-Panabelle ;P  
Shrine of the Saiyan Squirt


	74. Chapter 73: Breath to Breath

Disclaimer: Sorry, no time to leave a disclaimer today, Goku's trying to break the padlock on the fridge, Chibi Trunks is trying to help him, Jack's cheer them on, and Saraneth is playing lookout. Gotta run! 

A/N: I would have uploaded this last night, but ff.net was repairing itself. That's ok, I'm uploading it right now. 

And are you all _blind_, or do you really _not_ trust me anymore? Seriously...look at the last sentence of the previous chapter : _Slowly their laughter subsided; slowly, their eyes opened._ Hmmm...let's think about that one--**she's sitting on his lap and they're embracing one another. Was I really not that clear, or do you really not trust me?**

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Petrified Tears  
chapter 73

  
  


Two bodies, two souls. 

To think that these two could be so blind, so blind as to think that they two alone were the only two in the world who could sypathize with loneliness, that they two alone were meant to be alone. Each felt below the other, that the other was somehow beyond their reach. 

The power flickered above them; went out, as if Dende had cupped his hand around a candle and blown out the flame. Their world was left to the starlight of the outside heavens, as the gentle breath of the world kissed their hair and kissed their half-lidded eyes. 

A finger twitched; a hand moved. 

Blue eyes met bluer, a blush ran from one face to the other. 

Slowly, she exhaled, their lips so close they could almost taste each other. His hand pulled away from hers and found its way into midnight, deeply rooting itself into her hair, his fingers tightening against the nape of her neck. 

Slender fingers slid along his arm, settling on his shoulder, fingers wrapping around the side of his neck, up and into his hair; the arm around her waist tightened lovingly as her fingers intertwined with his. 

Breath to breath, two souls battled within two bodies; two hearts slowed to almost nothing. Blue eyes and bluer, both fighting within themselves, searching for what was right. 

Her breath hitched slightly, her fingers tightening into a gentle fist, pulling his hair, as his hand squeezed the nape of her neck, his mouth drawing nearer to hers. He froze, afraid he'd done something wrong, until her fingers drew slowly down the line of his jaw and a shy smile lighted upon her lips. 

His heart wrestled with his soul; the argument of one was how much he wanted this, and how much she wanted this, the argument of the other was that this wasn't meant to be. 

She blinked, slowly, her eyelashes brushing against his, her eyes not opening as her demons tempted and taunted her. She loved him, she had since forever ago. But he didn't love her back. 

His breath brushed against hers, and she opened her eyes, bluer eyes meeting blue. Slowly, she curled her fingers against his cheek, letting her hand fall. 

Slowly, his hand fell in turn, his arm once again encircling her waist. Her hands clasped around his, their noses brushing against each other. 

Slowly, two sets of blue eyes closed; slowly, two sets of blue eyes opened.

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A/N: There, is _that_ clear enough for ya? Or do I need to draw it out in crayon? ;) Is ok y'all, after everything I've put you through, I wouldn't trust me either. 

-Panabelle ;P  
Shrine of the Saiyan Squirt


	75. Chapter 74: Little Sister

Disclaimer: You'll have to excuse the big pink bunny; I'm slightly drugged on NyQuil right now. 

A/N: Maybe _slightly_ isn't the best word for it if I'm talking to a big pink bunny....o.O Anyhoo, I'm home sick, which is the only reason you're getting new chapter(s?). But don't worry about it, I'm better and will be back at school tomorrow at 7 (is actually happy about this; crazy, huh? Must be the NyQuil). Anyways, on with the chapter. Hope you all enjoy. 

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Petrified Tears  
chapter 74

  
  


The power came back on, the split second surge over. Pan and Trunks blinked, suddenly completely aware of how they were sitting, Pan half on his lap, him holding her quite intimately. 

She giggled nervously, and he smiled dumbly. Their eyes met, and he swore. 

"Dammit! I can't get over that sister comment! Explain!" 

She blinked, leaned back, then started laughing.

* * *

"So wait, ok….explain that for me again?" 

Pan smiled and shook her head. "What don't you understand?" 

"Everything," Trunks replied, laying on his desk, his head hanging off the edge, knees propped up, hands folded across his stomach. Below him, Pan lay on her back with the top of her head next to the desk, looking up at the top of his head and his eyes, her own legs propped up, her hands folded beneath her head. "Starting with 'I would give anything to be your sister for just one day'." 

She shook her head and looked up at him. "You _really_ want me to explain all of that again?" 

He tilted his head father backwards so that his gaze was full on hers. "You really _need_ me to answer that?" 

With a laugh, she arched her back and clenched her eyes, stretching her spine. 

Trunks mentally throttled himself. 

_Do not look at her chest. Do_ not_ look at her chest…_ he chanted. 

"Fine." She paused for a moment, then smiled. "I would give anything to be your sister for just one day." 

"I caught _that_ much, Panno; now what the hell do you _mean_ by it?" he groaned, rubbing his face, then laying his hands out straight from his sides, his lower arms dangling off the desk. 

"All of my life, I haven't been seen as anything more then a tomboy. Despite my mom's efforts, my dad's, my grandmother's, that's what I was when I was little. Sure, they stuffed me into dresses back then, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. I still found it easier to connect with you, my uncle, Uub, and whatever other guys that were hanging around than I could with Marron or Bra. As soon as I hit the age when most girls are discovered by boys, I might as well have been a boy. I was 'one of the guys', without being a guy at all; which only made it worse. If there's one thing I've learned about guys, it's that they have these secret bonds that they don't show anyone, and that they don't make with girls. But if they can find a girl who might as well be one of them; hell. I was a guy with most of you and almost every guy I've met in my life from the moment I walked into sight." 

She paused and her smile grew superficial, her gaze seemed to look right up through his head before she lowered her eyes to some distant point in a corner of the room. 

"But Bra had this way about her; even in grade school she had that way. She'd come home from school, some boy having walked her to the gate, no matter how far out of the way your house was. 'Course she never let them walk her to the door, but that's not the point. I'd be sitting on the stoop, or be exploring the grounds, and I'd see her walk up with this boy; he'd be carrying her books or her bag, and would just be out-of-his-mind-crazy with her. As soon as we were both in high school, when I finally got into public school that is, I thought maybe it'd be the same. 

"It wasn't. Sure, there was the occasional guy that could see past the tomboy routine which I was desperately trying to drop, but that never lasted. The minute they met my family, that was it; they were gone. What was even worse, was that most of them never lasted long enough for me to take home. I'd meet a guy at a baseball or a basketball game, at the arcade, at work, and we'd hang out…but the minute he met Bra, that was it. I was 'one of the guys' again, and he was throwing himself at Bra." 

Trunks blinked, absorbing this, and rolled over onto his stomach, crossing his arms across the desk and resting his chin on the cross of his wrists, looking down at her. 

"Bra was usually oblivious, and would do whatever was in her power to try and get the guy to notice me as a girl again, but it would only make her a goddess in the guy's eyes. She never so much as admitted to liking any of them, even if I knew she did. And she never so much as entertained the thought of working at the same store as any of them. She's a good friend. But she still had that way about her, still does as far I saw last Sunday. And I'm serious; I would do almost anything to be able to be her for just one day, for guys to see me like that for just one day out of my entire life." She trailed off, looking up at him with a smile that resembled a doll's, painted and forced. "Sound's pretty stupid, doesn't it?" she laughed, trying to joke. But he knew she wasn't joking; that wish meant a lot to her and it was probably the source of everything that had been eating her up inside since she'd come home to the people she'd grown up around. 

"No, Pan, it doesn't," he told her quietly, his strong voice gentle and reassuring. 

She looked up at him, raising an eyebrow, as if to pretend the whole thing was still a big joke. 

"I explain the thing _three_ times, you're completely lost and clueless the entire time, but all of a sudden, you understand?" He shrugged. "I just wanted to make sure I hadn't missed anything. Believe me, knowing that you want to be my _sister_, and not my _sister_ makes quite a difference." 

She blinked, her eyes filming over, and looked up into his cobalt blue eyes. 

"You actually thought I'd want to be related to _you_? Ha!" 

He ignored her comment and reached down an arm, resting his cheek against the other as he flailed his hand uselessly at her bangs. 

"If you've wanted that wish so badly, why didn't you just gather the dragonballs?" Trunks asked, batting her bangs from side to side. She crossed her eyes at his fingers, but didn't stop him. 

"Because I wanted people to notice _me_ for _me_, not because of some spell the dragon would cast." She sighed as he smiled down on her. "Yeah, yeah. I know I'm completely contradicting myself and coming off sounding like a complete moron. But it's true, no matter _how_ stupid it sounds." 

"It doesn't sound stupid to me, Pan. It makes perfect sense." 

She looked up at him, suddenly confused herself. Was he being sincere, or was he just pretending to be like he sometimes was? 

"And if you want to know the truth, Bra would happily trade places with you." 

"What do you mean?" she mumbled, her eyes probing into his as his hand stilled, now drawing the strands of silken midnight through his fingers rather than playing with them. 

He smiled. "She'd never admit it to you or anyone else, but she'd give anything to be 'one of the guys' rather than the pretty girl." 

"How do you know that?" 

He shrugged. "I'm her big brother. She tell me things, just like you tell Goten. She's on the other side of the spectrum, and she hates it there. Guys used to flock her, her attitude and her looks drew her a lot of praise. But since high school's ended, most of those guys that she could never keep hold of have gone off and gotten married or have wound up with bum-fuck lives. As she puts it, 'all of the decent guys want more than a pretty face'. Now, she's just being observed by guys who think she'd be a good lay, or that she's just one of those airheads that has a dozen guys for every dime she owns. That 'way' she had is gone now; the charm's worn off, and she's not as attractive as boys used to find her." 

Pan laughed sarcastically. "I find that hard to believe; Sunday she and I went shopping. Guys would stop and stare at her; it was like she was a princess or something." 

Trunks laughed. "She is, in case you've forgotten. But I sincerely doubt that anyone on this planet outside of our family circles would appreciate that. A princess without a planet doesn't sound so spectacular, does it?" 

Pan laughed quietly. "But still…" 

"And did you ever stop to think that maybe they weren't looking at my sister, Panny, but at my best friend instead?" 

The laugh that bubbled out of her was so real and yet so incredulous that it almost hurt him to hear it. He pushed himself up into a sitting position and looked down at her, waiting for her to quiet down. 

"Trunks," she laughed, half-sobbingly, "no one would ever look at _me_ like they look at Bra. She's cute, she's adorable, and surprisingly loyal and honest. She never dated anyone just because she felt _sorry_ for them, there was always some attraction in it on her part if she dated _anyone_. I'm everything Bra's not: not cute, not adorable, and somewhere between my grandfather and Yamcha." 

Trunks shook his head down at her and she stood up, glaring at him. 

"Trunks, we both know it's true. I was crazy enough to tell Bra once that I envied the attention she got. She told me that someday everyone would wake up and see me as me and not a tomboy. I told her she was probably right, but deep down, I know the truth. Everyone already _has_ woken up; I'm just Panny, the kid. Not the little girl, not the little boy. Just, 'the kid'." 

"Pan, that's not-" 

She shook her head. 

"You know what? I'm getting back to work. _Thank_ you very much." 

He watched, dumbstruck, as she turned her back to him and walked back to her nest of papers, keeping her back to him as she set to work. 

"P-" 

Her shoulders stiffened as his lips parted, and her name fell into a sigh of defeat. Hanging his head, he climbed down and sat down in his own nest, pulling papers and notes into his lap. 

_She has no idea how gorgeous she is_, he thought to himself, his gaze drifting now and then to her back, his eyes making out the curves of her shoulders and her shoulder blades through her teeshirt, the lines of her bra. He sighed again, stopping himself from speaking, and he leaned his head back against his desk, purple locks falling across his eyes. 

Dawn broke a few moments later, the life-giving rays stretching across the ceiling, falling on Pan, but not on him as he sat in the shadow of his desk. Lowering his head, his eyes landed on the mug she'd given him a few hours earlier. Slowly, he picked it up, recognizing it as a present she'd given him years ago when ChiChi had ordained that Pan would become a world-famous artist, one scholar in the family being more than enough. 

Pan had entertained her grandmother for a few weeks, takings classes here and there, learning how to throw pots and vases. Eventually she had told ChiChi that art just wasn't her thing; maybe the art of movement, but not any kind of art that could be displayed in a museum. She'd given Trunks a mug, just a simple little cup with no handle that was stained black at the top, and faded gradually down into purple at the bottom. She'd confessed that someone else had glazed and painted it for her, but he still loved the mug; always had. 

He sighed, cupping both hands around the old ceramic, and his eyes drifted to Pan, her back still turned to him. 

He had a sinking suspicion that she was crying, but he knew better than to intrude.

**********************************  
A/N: Hey, it wasn't my normal "they're about to 'get it on' and then get pissed at each other instead" routine, ya gotta give me that much. ;P I might be able to upload a second chapter tonight, no promises though. I'm still kinda sick, so it takes me a little longer than usual to edit my chapters before I post them. *looks at the 'Chat Girls' because they've seen what she goes through to edit* That and, well, Jack does funny things on NyQuil, and Saraneth's just plain konked out. Chibi and Goku are attempting to make soup...*turns green at the thought*...ok, ya know what? I'm just gonna go back to work now....


	76. Chapter 75: Nothing to Hide

Disclaimer: *Panabelle sleeps-completely drugged on Codine-as Chibi Trunks and Jack plot world domination* 

A/N: *gnashing of teeth, gnashing of teeth* I don't like being sick, but a third week of Christmas break isn't a bad thing is it? Considering I actually watched _Pokemon_ of my own free _will_ yesterday, I'd have to disagree. Anyways, you asked for a new chapter. Here ya go. Don't bother going to my site, until I get better, I won't be updating there; I'm 3 chapters behind as of now, and am going to be swamped with make-up work when I finally go back to school. So, enjoy. 

*****************************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 75

  
  


He rocked his shoulders, lower, and upper back against the desk, relief flooding across his features as the stiff joints popped, as he slowly stretched out his legs in front of him, each pop and crack waking his mind from the doldrums of work. He leaned forward, clasping his fists together and stretching them towards the door across from him, locking his elbows as his torso was pulled forward with his arms, then curling his back inwards and stretching his arms up and over his head, then back and behind him. 

Content, he yawned and stood, pushing himself up with the palms of his hand, picking up the old handmade mug as he changed elevation. 

"I'm going to go get some coffee, you want some Pan?" he asked, his mouth opened widely, his words coming out all vowels with no breaks, just changes in pitch. He looked over at his unwilling assistant, only to find her curled up in the same position she'd been in 3 hours ago when she'd decided that she'd shared enough with him: legs crossed and tucked under her, her form stooped over on herself, head held up by the arm supported on her knee, hair spilling majestically around her. 

Trunks smiled and set the coffee cup down on his desk, walking over to the petite girl-woman who slept peacefully and well-deservedly with her back to the sunlight, careful not to step on the stray papers and possibly disturb her rest. 

"What'd I tell you Panny?" he chided playfully to her sleeping form, kneeling down before her and brushing her hair out of her eyes, gently pulling the notebook and papers from her lap and fingers. Carefully wrapping an arm around her back to support her, he straightened her figure and tilted her head away from the floor with his finger, supporting her neck as her cheek fell against his shoulder. He pulled the pen from her grasp and set it on the floor, easing his other arm under her legs and slowly standing, holding her lovingly against his chest. "Turn your back to the sun and you fall. Dreams don't lie in darkness little girl." 

Lightly pushing off on his toe, he glided towards a small couch against the North-Eastern wall of the room that was intended for entertaining during long private business meetings. Now past the sea of paper, he landed quietly, silently crossing towards the couch, his sneakers silent on the worn plush carpet. He lay her down on her back, smiling to himself as she instinctively turned her face towards the early morning sunlight, curling up on her side, her knees slightly bent, one leg slightly farther forward than the other, one leg slightly farther back. 

"It's true Panny, you are a little girl; you're all grown up, I can't deny that, Gohan can't deny that. But only children know the innocence you have, no grown woman could ever see things in the clouds. I know, I'm surrounded by them daily. But you aren't one of them; you're mature, in every way imaginable. But straight to your core, you're innocently naïve and childishly insecure and still searching for yourself." He knelt before the couch, sweeping hair out of her eyes, his fingers following the strands past her shoulder, sometimes curving along her cheek to her chin instead. His blue eyes were gentle, his eyes peering curiously with youthful persistence, watching and loving the way the sunlight played across her features and sparkled on her hair. "But that's the beauty of it, Panny. You still have a chance to find yourself. Most of us call ourselves grown up and stop searching." 

She stirred and he paused, adrenalin spreading into his limbs at the thought she might be able to hear him, that she might be waking or have already waken. 

But he didn't know if he was afraid she was waking, or if he wanted her to. 

A tiny hand lifted and tucked itself next to her cheek, her eyes staying peacefully closed, a quiet sigh escaping her lips as she settled herself. 

He smiled, closing his fingers over hers, wishing she would close hers around his as well. 

"That night, last Friday, you told me you were still a little girl pretending she was a woman. But you aren't; you're a woman seeing the world with child's eyes. To tell the truth, I don't know what's worse; a little girl pretending to be a grown woman, or a grown man pretending he's still a little boy." He laughed quietly to himself, shaking his head, lifting his hand and pushing it into her hair, not caring anymore if he woke her; he didn't care if she heard him, he half wished she would. "Because that's how _I_ acted that night. That entire weekend actually. I went back to being the spoiled little brat I was when I was seven, only a lot meaner. And if you want to know the truth, I killed a part of myself off that night. It was either admit I can't do a damn thing about this, or say good-bye to you forever. Kill my pride, or keep it till it kills me. For a while I didn't know what part of me had won, but I know now. I have nothing to hide from you, Panny. There's only one thing about me that you don't know, and I don't know why you can't see it. 

"But you're young; you stand a better chance at doing something useful than the rest of us. You're one of those people who can make a difference in the world, and who will. I don't mean by saving it; I mean by changing it. You don't need to fight for anything you don't believe in, and need only fight for what you do. But you already know that." He sighed, surprised that he hadn't consciously thought any of that before. 

"And you have no idea how gorgeous you are." 

The sunlight twinkled on her sleeping face, painting her hair indigo. Beads of light played across her eyelids, clinging to her eyelashes, and suddenly a lone tear slid into the corner of her eye, catching in the fold of her eyelids. He lifted his hand to wipe it away, but then his face softened, all of the exhaustion melted from his features. His eyes quieted, and he set his hand along her cheek, leaning forward and kissing the tear away. 

He pulled away slowly, hardly daring to breathe. Blue eyes half-shut and half-scared, he glanced cautiously up at her, then drew his thumb tenderly across the quiet lips of the sleeping beauty. He moved as if he thought to really kiss her, but stopped himself. 

"No." 

The word came as if the breeze through the parted window had placed it on his lips. He sat back on his heals, pulling his hand away. 

"No," he repeated, smiling sadly to himself. He looked down at her, smiling lightly, tight-lipped, and quietly moved away, leaving the room and sliding the door silently closed behind him.

*****************************  
A/N: I _must_ drugged if I'm actually answering all of those questions I've tossed in throughout the fic and haven't really added any new ones. Anyways, short, sweet, and surprisingly coherent. Not me: I may be shorter than all my friends, and I can be sweet at times, but I hardly make much sense. ;P 

-Panabelle ;P


	77. Chapter 76: Betrayal of Trust

Disclaimer: Economics is the divine and deciding life force. To fail is to die, to succeed is to live. 

A/N: Sorry about that, I'm trying to talk myself into going back to my econ homework; it isn't working. Anyways, I'm finally starting to feel better *does a victory dance in honor of Codine the Great, ends up falling into hysterical coughing fit*, and I figured, since I'm finally _allowed_ to be on the computer, I might as well thank my "followers". I'm actually starting to believe that I have some freaky cult following amoung you by the way some of you are reviewing, especially for the last chapter, which I'll refer to after the chapter. So, on with you. Read, review if you wish. Just be sure to enjoy. 

Btb, thanks to Panno for the quote; you gave it to me (you know which one ;P) months ago, I finally got around to putting it in. Also, **The Sock Puppet of Smelly Death returns!**

****************************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 76

  
  


Teeth clenched, she dug her nails into the arms of her chair, blue eyes flashing dangerously. She'd had quite about enough of all of his games and tricks, and she was about to stomp them into the ground. 

Exploding out of her chair, shoving past her secretary, and storming down the halls to the elevator like an angry typhoon, she made her way to her son's office. Employees drew a collective sigh of relief as the reflective, double-reinforced, steel elevator doors closed on the irate face of the _true_ owner of Capsule Corps. 

But not even a steel and glass box could contain her anger. 

The doors flew open as if at her command, and she raged through the lobby of her son's office, throwing open the double doors and, before even bothering to look at the room beyond, broadcasted to the terrified workers, "Why the _hell_ is my son _not_ in this office!?" 

From somewhere beyond her rage she heard a stifled yawn, followed by her son's voice. 

"This isn't an office. It's hell. With florescent lighting." 

Bulma blinked, suddenly accosted with the vision of her son in his swivel chair, wearing the same old jeans and the same lime green shirt as the day before, his feet up and his sneakers crossed comfortably on the desktop, one hand shoved into a sock, the other holding a stack of papers as he read. 

"Trunks?" 

"Yeah. 'Wow, I'm here on time', right Mom?" he yawned, flicking his eyes momentarily towards her over the rims of his glasses. 

Momentarily befuddled, she glanced at the couch to find Pan on her back, one leg thrown over the back of the couch, the other stretched along the cushions, one arm flung over her eyes, the other back over the arm of the couch that supported her head, mouth open as she silently snored away. 

She looked back to her son, about to apologize, before her eye landed on the open window. 

"A ha! So you snuck in through the window again! How many times do I have to tell you, if you're late, I'll know? Huh, Trunks? You're worse than your father, you always-" 

Trunks calmly interrupted her, propping the papers he read up against one leg and stroking the sock on his hand as if it were a cat and he were an evil doctor plotting to take over the world. "Actually, we never bothered to leave last night. We finished the work you intended to bury us with today, and completed the task of going over Mr. Summer's plans around dawn, archiving the bugs and flaws to memory. Pan wrote down a few formulas that might fix the problems-as she discovered there were many-and from what I can see, they check out. I'm making sure I understand all of this while I let her sleep before I take her home and head off to bed myself." 

Bulma's mouth fell open in defeat, her figure slouching forward in shock. She straightened herself, pointing a finger at her son. 

"You mean to tell me _Pan_ figured out in one night what all of Capsule Corps below ourselves couldn't in two weeks?" 

Trunks shook his head. "Not on her own no; I was here. And it was 6 hours, I'll have you know." 

Bulma growled. 

"_How the hell could you have managed that!?_" 

"Easy. I'm your son. She's Gohan's daughter." 

Bulma relaxed and looked back and forth between the girl literally _sprawled_ on the small couch, and her son-who still sat petting what she'd come to realize was a sock puppet. 

"I don't buy it." 

He finally looked up at her, his eyes tired and not about to take any shit. 

"We haven't left since we got here at 8 yesterday." 

"You got here at 8:_15_ yesterday, I'll have you know." 

"Whatever. We haven't left." 

"Then why's the window open, Mister?" 

"ChiChi brought us food. We forgot to close the window." 

"I sincerely doubt," Bulma laughed, enjoying fighting with her son, having never thought to see this spirit within him again, "that ChiChi _flew_ food to you. To your window which is _very_ high off the ground." 

"Goten brought her." 

Bulma started laughing hysterically. 

On the couch, Pan stirred, moving to roll over and ending up falling half off the couch. Landing on her head, she opened her eyes to see a (by the sound of it) well-entertained Bulma, and a very exhausted Trunks. 

"What the hell are you laughing at." 

Bulma raised her eyebrows at her son, having heard the tone from Vegeta more times than most mortals would ever want to hear it, and not fearing it. "You and Goten had been at quiet war with each other for so long, I doubt either of you would recognize the other's voice." 

"Try me." 

Bulma glanced at him, then turned to leave. 

"I guess I just have to check the security cameras and make sure that you really _were_ here working all night." 

Panic spread like pain across his face, the puppet turned to stare at her with wide, pink eraser eyes. 

_Shit! Shit shit shit shit shit! Forgot about those damn cameras! Shit shit shit shit shit!_

His eyes darted towards Pan, who stared at him with eyes wide, betrayed, and that resembled ChiChi right before she blew her lid. 

"Oh, and Trunks," Bulma asked as she filed the look between the two for future wonderings, stopping at the door, ready to leave. "What's with the sock?" 

With a snarl and a growl he launched himself out of his chair at his mother, sock puppet first. Before he was even perpendicular to the floor of the office, Pan blurred at him, ramming into his side, the two of them crashing into the wall, beyond Bulma's view. 

Not about to ask, she closed the doors behind her and walked down the hall, lost deep in thought pondering on the reasons for the look of betrayal and fear that passed between her son and Gohan's daughter.

**************************  
A/N: The plot thickens, ah? 

Anyways, I want to say something here that I feel is very (un)necessary and needs to be said. Someone left a review for the last chapter mentioning the word "incoherent". This is ok. I took it as constructive critisism, although I totally disagree with the individual. It was said that "people don't talk to themselves in deep metaphors and hidden meanings", when most of the people _I_ (at least) am around, do. If you actually listen to most people when they let their subconscious speak for their mind, they can be really deep, metaphoracle, and almost surreal. There are always those people who don't pick up on this, or who aren't like this, but it's true. Poetry isn't a conscious stream of thought, neither is love, hate, and most human feelings. And if you've been paying attention, you'll notice that almost every chapter in this story has a metaphor, an allusion, or a hidden meaning somewhere within the dialogue or descriptions. But that's ok, that's what's writing's for, and I don't have a problem with the comment left by (as some of you have called him) 'the flamer'. That's not why I'm making this note. The reason I'm doing this is to show I really don't care. Now do me a favor and leave the poor guy alone; he was being honest, no one deserves to be harrassed for their opinion. 

Should it have really been necessary for me to ask this of all of you? I think not. Anyhoo, hope you enjoyed the chapter. 

-Panabelle ;P  
Shrine of the Saiyan Squirt


	78. Chapter 77: Mr. Twenty-Five Cents

Disclaimer: *just sits there all cute like and huggles Jack* (Jack:) Help...me... *squeezes him 'cause she loves him so much* 

A/N: Wow, two chapters in one day! Yay! *waves a little flag in the air; Jack tries to get away; grabs his tail and pulls him back into her lap* And it's a long one! I won't keep you; read on, and review if you like. Just make sure you enjoy yourself. 

Gagh! Apparently ff.net was being sucky last night and didn't upload the entire chapter....thanks for those who let me know...let's try this again.... 

***************************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 77

  
  


Setting the stack of papers safely in his briefcase, Trunks capsulized the case and shoved the capsule into his pocket, turning slowly around to face Pan, who looked about ready to kill. 

"I swear to Dende, I forgot. Mom installed them after Goten and I nearly blew up the office." He swallowed thickly and gently grasped the sides of her face, forcing her to look him in the eye. "I swear, Pan." 

Her eye twitched, she bared her teeth in a snarl. 

"Why the hell should I believe you." 

He nervously licked his lips, before biting the inside of the lower, dropping his hands, and responding. 

"Because I let you see just as deeply into me as you let me see into you." 

She glared up at him for another moment before she sighed, the fire leaving her eyes as she fell forward, her forehead landing square in the middle of his chest. Nose pressed against his shirt, eyes closed and body tired, she gave a quiet laugh at the irony of it all. 

"'It'll only be between you, me, and the wall'," she mimicked. 

He shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned back against the desk, Pan moving forward, all of her weight supported by his chest and her forehead. 

"I didn't know the walls had eyes and ears," he mumbled. 

She laughed quietly again into his tee shirt; her breath tickled his skin through the fabric. 

"We are so fucked." 

"You're father's going to kill me."

* * *

They escaped through the window after destroying the cameras in a fit of righteousness and revenge for the betrayal of the walls. On the ground, Trunks led her to an empty parking space and uncapsulized the blue and orange bike. 

"I'm driving," Pan declared, striding purposefully towards it, her eyes afire with the prospect. 

"Like hell you are," Trunks retaliated, jingling the keys. She turned as if responding to a bell, and stared at him with puppy eyes that Goten had perfected and taught her. For Goten, they had stopped working on Trunks when the boys were six. For Pan, they had never stopped working. But he had learned to overcome them. 

"Pl_ea_se?" she whimpered, looking up at him with the puppy eyes and letting her lip quiver. 

_That_ was a new weapon in this tactic; he hadn't seen that one before. 

But still, he would overcome. 

He jingled the keys again, hoisting one leg over the bike, and sitting down, pushing them into the ignition, revving the bike and looking back at her. 

"_Tru-unks_," she whined, jumping up and down and stomping her feet, her fists balled, as if she were a child. His laughter quieted her and she shut up, getting onto the bike and punching him in the back, crossing her arms over her chest and feigning a pout. "I hate you." 

He snickered and smirked, knocking back the kickstand and supporting the weight of the bike with his foot. "You may want to hold on," he told her, heartbeats before letting the throttle go and almost literally flying out of the parking lot, a small squeak escaping Pan's lips as she hurried to get her arms around him. 

He smiled, taking a hard right, the bike coming dangerously close to the ground for Pan's liking. With another squeak, she tightened her arms around him, hiding her face in the back of his shirt. 

"Ever heard of a speed limit?" she cried, teeth clenched, as the bike righted itself coming out of the turn. 

He laughed. "Come on, Panny, don't tell me you're _scared_. Where's that sense of adventure you used to have?" 

"Oh, I still have it. I just don't feel comfortable with the way you're driving considering you haven't slept in _three days_." 

"Good point," he allowed, slowing the bike to the designated maximum speed. 

The ride home was peaceful and serene, but as they came into the valley that Pan's family lived in, she came awake, sitting up, her hands sliding across his belly and onto his sides as she pulled herself off of his back. He shivered as she did, the movement blinding his senses. 

"Trunks? You cold or something?" 

"Huh?" He blinked rapidly, coming awake just in time to take the turn onto the road that led to her house. "Oh…yeah. All of a sudden my living blanket moved." 

She punched him in the back again, then laughed, singing aloud to herself for all the valley to hear. 

"This is the week that wouldn't end, I miss you Sleep my dearest friend! She made me, be-gin working for her crazy-psycho son, but now I'm just so happy 'cause this cursed week is done, this is the week that wouldn't end, I miss you Sleep my dearest friend! She made me…" 

Trunks laughed, knowing the shock of freedom all too well to even bother asking where the song was coming from. The words had flowed so effortlessly and without a hitch out of her mouth the first time that he almost thought that either she really deserved to be the daughter of Gohan-who had supposedly once composed an entire song when he was drunk at the age of 5 or 6, or she'd been writing it from day 1. 

The small house came into view, and she broke down into smiles and quiet dancing on the back of the bike. If he hadn't been slowing down, he would have warned her that she might tip them over. But the bike came to a stop, and she got off, Trunks getting off behind her, handing her the keys. 

"Hey, you want to come in and get something to eat?" she asked, the scent of ChiChi's cooking washing over them from the open window. 

He knew why she was inviting him; he and Goten had scared her the day before, and she was determined to make them sit down and face each other. He didn't want to do that. But Goten was most likely at work…and ChiChi made such excellent food… 

"Hang on, let me check with Grandma," she laughed, not even needing to ask him, the answer clear on his face. Food had won out over fear of confrontation. She walked towards the open kitchen window and leaned in, smiling and waving at her grandmother, seeing her father on the phone, his look completely perplexed. 

"No, she's not home yet…she probably won't be home until late tonight, if at all tonight…" Gohan watched the note pad next to the phone as if it were mutating into a butterfly, a pencil twitching slowly in his hand. 

"Hi Grandma," Pan whispered to ChiChi. 

"Hello, Pan. Are you home for the day?" 

"Forever, hopefully. Anyways, can Trunks come in for lunch with me? Neither of us had breakfast; in fact we've only had one meal in the last 24 hours." 

ChiChi nodded, and Pan turned, giving Trunks a thumbs up. 

She was about to head to the door with Trunks when her curiosity got the better of her and she turned back to ChiChi. 

"Grandma," she whispered, pushing herself waist-level with the window, leaning in. "Who's Daddy talking to?" 

ChiChi shrugged her slim shoulders. "Some boy who called yesterday about the same time that we were having dinner. He asked for you." ChiChi looked back at Gohan, then leaned forwards. "Pan, you _are_ home now, you _should_ take this call." 

"I have a guest." 

ChiChi shook her head and smiled. "Well, he called this morning while your parents were out; he didn't leave his name, but he was very polite." 

"Where _is_ Mom?" 

"She's taking Goten his lunch, he forgot it this morning." 

"Ah…" 

"Alright…no, she didn't come home last night…my guess is as good as yours…" Gohan smiled at the phone, and Pan had to wonder who it was who had called. She couldn't think of anybody-any boy, at least-who'd be calling her. All of the boys who had her phone number would not be easily accepted by her father, let alone her grandmother. "Well, I'm sure she'll be…yes. Do you want to leave a message this time, instead of…I see…well, we're not like that here, I assure you. Our daughter gets her messages, even if they are trivial and worth nothing by the time she finally gets home. Unless my brother answers the phone, but he's absent-minded so we always forgive him…alright…um-hmm," Gohan murmured, leaning over and writing something on phone. "And the phone number is…Ok…um-hmm…Ok. It was nice talking to you again, Jack, I'll have her call you b-" 

"I'm home!" Pan cried, shoving herself into the window, flying across the room, and crashing into her father, ripping the phone from his hand and clinging to the wall, holding herself there with her ki as if she were crouching in a pounce on the floor. 

"Pan!" ChiChi cried, dishwater on her face and in her hair, the front of her dress wet. "Don't use the window!" 

"Welcome home, Sweetie," Gohan mumbled from the floor, voice cracking. 

"Jack?" 

All she heard on the other end was laughter. 

"Hello?" 

"What'd you do, fly in through the window?" 

"Actually, I was leaning in the kitchen window wondering who was calling. I wasn't going to answer 'cause I kinda have a friend over for lunch, but seeing as how it's long distance and all…" Pan shrugged, not caring that he couldn't see her. 

There was a grumble on the other line, probably Jack wondering why the hell he put up with her. 

"Where the hell have you been? That wasn't funny, you know." 

She watched as Trunks leaned into the window, about to ask what was going on, only to be whacked with the dreaded skillet of pain before ChiChi told him to use the damn door. 

"What do you mean where have I been? And what wasn't funny?" Pan asked, picking up the actual phone and holding it in her lap as she pushed herself towards the ceiling and settled herself cross-legged on the old plaster. 

"For the past 24 hours. I've been trying to call. And I'm talking about that little 'we kissed, it means nothing, I have to go' bullshit you pulled, Pan." 

She groaned. 

"For the sake of Dende, Jack; the last place I would explain that comment to you is in the presence of my family. Father being high on the list of reasons why." 

Gohan looked strangely at her, but only greeted Trunks. 

"Let me guess, Mr. Wonderful is there right now, right?" Jack sighed, his voice quiet as always and seeming more depressed. 

"Jack?" 

"Just answer the question, Pan. It's not often I call anybody. Humor me here." 

She shrugged, her hair pointing towards the ground. Trunks and her father were giving her odd looks. 

"Yes, he is. He was dropping me off from work and I invited him in for lunch. Big deal. Look, Jack. I really don't want to-" 

"And that's why you were simply going to call me back, right?" Pan closed her eyes, growling at the receiver. 

"I was raised by upright parents who taught me that while I can always call back, I can't always put the person in front of me on hold." 

Jack snorted into the phone. "So, you work nights?" 

"What are you getting at?" she asked suspiciously. 

"Nothing, just something your dad said when I called." 

Pan turned her eyes to her father, glaring at him. 

"What'd he say," she growled quietly. 

"That you usually don't get home until odd hours of the morning, 'he' stays the 'night', and the day starts again." 

"What the hell are you getting at, Jack," she growled, spitting out his name as if tearing a hunk out of a piece of meat with her teeth, glaring down at the receiver. 

"Just that you're probably having some really wild nights with your boss." 

"Dammit, Jack!" she cried, leaping to her feet, still on the ceiling, her hair flickering gold. Trunks and Gohan looked back and forth from each other to her, each wondering if it was safe to let her stay on the phone. ChiChi eyed the skillet she still wielded and the distance between Pan's head and the floor, wondering if she could smack her so she'd get her shoes off the ceiling. "You of _all_ people should know I'm _not_ like-like-like…_that!_" 

Jack was laughing again. She heard a creak of springs, as if he were laying down on his bed or on a couch. 

"Pan, first thing, calm down. Second thing, get off the ceiling." 

"I'm not on the ceiling," she grumbled angrily, face red as she tried to decide if she was embarrassed that he knew her that well or if she was still furious. "And I have every right to be pissed at you-you just called me a two-bit whore." 

"I did _not_ call you a two-bit whore." 

"Really?" she spat. She crossed her eyes and mimicked him, doing quite well with the sarcastic self-hate that his voice carried. "'Just that you're probably having some really wild nights with your boss.' Oh, yeah Jack. I just misinterpreted that. I'm sorry." 

He laughed again. "You _should_ be sorry for misinterpreting that, I _didn't_ call you a two-bit whore. Remember? _I'm_ the two-bit whore, Pan." 

"Yeah, I remember Mr. Twenty-Five Cents." 

He laughed. "Actually, what I called you was a straight-up whore." 

Her hair flashed gold and stayed gold, her eyes blitzed into green and seemed to stared beyond the walls of her house as a smirk grew across her face. A moment later, Jack gave a scream and a cry of shock that even Trunks and Gohan heard from across the room. 

"No fair! No fair!" 

"Ha ha! Take _that_, Jack!" she cried, throwing her fisting into the air. 

"Holy _shit_, Pan, put the damn tv down-gently! Gently!" came his voice, panicked and high from the other side of the line. Exchanging glances, Trunks and Gohan laughed and moved to the table. "_Not on me!_" 

A moment later, Pan's hair faded back into black, her eyes sparkling blue again. 

"What do you say?" she teased, holding the phone behind her back, leaning forward and speaking into the receiver. 

"I say you're completely insane," he grumbled a moment before she heard the creak of springs again as he lay back down. "Now get off the ceiling." 

"I am _not_ on the ceiling, Jack." 

He laughed, almost as if to assure himself that he _was_ still alive and that his television hadn't just flown off of the dresser of its own doing and tried to attack him. 

"Yes you are. Now get off the ceiling before your grandmother goes after you; she seemed nice enough when she answered the phone about 6 hours ago, but she had this edge in her voice that made it clear that punks would be punished." 

Pan laughed. "Ok, so I'm on the ceiling. And I'm actually a little afraid to come down now, because she has her skillet and is eyeing my head." 

"Like it'll hurt." 

She rolled her eyes. 

"Trust me, somehow, she _makes_ it hurt." Her eyes grew wide as ChiChi shrugged and walked across the kitchen, holding the skillet above the plate designated for her granddaughter. "Great, now she's holding my food for ransom." 

Jack laughed again. 

"Hey, I just realized something. You're not long distance." 

There was a pause, then a quiet and drawn out, "Ye-eah…I'm not." 

"You're in Japan." 

"Yeah. I am." 

With a squeal she came off the ceiling, immediately getting her ear boxed by her grandmother's hand. 

"Wh-why are you here? I mean, Jack! You're in Japan!" 

"Yeah, I am. Don't wet yourself or anything over it." 

"No! I mean, now you can actually _meet_ the people I've been telling you about for the last four years!" 

"Great. I can't wait." There was a pause, and a voice in the background. 

"_Say good-bye, Jack, we need to go._" 

Then Jack's voice. 

"_Good-bye Jack._" 

"_Jack, say good-bye._" 

"_Good-bye Jack._" 

"_Jack…_" 

There was a sigh, then Jack turned back to the phone. "I gotta go." 

She laughed, leaning back against the little table the phone usually sat on, holding the phone against her legs. 

"Alright." 

"Hey, I really don't know my way around, and I feel really lucky because your dad and grandmother know English. So, maybe…why I was actually calling was to find out if you wanted to meet up with me sometime this weekend while I'm still here and, well, maybe…" 

"And make you feel like less of a tourist?" 

There was a sheepish pause, then a quiet, "Yeah." 

She laughed. "Sure. Just let me know when." 

"Tonight?" 

Pan shook her head sadly. "I have 8 hours of sleep for the last…well, since Wednesday. I plan on sleeping tonight. As soon as lunch is over, actually." 

"Well…tomorrow then?" 

"Can't do," Pan told him. "I have my friend Bra's birthday party tomorrow night, and I promised her we'd do that 'girl-thing' all day." 

"Aren't you all 'girly' now anyways?" 

"Yeah, I am. But Bra's all thrilled about the fact that she can get me into a dress without me putting up a fight." 

"She can?" 

Pan glared at the other three in the room. 

"Aw, poor Pan. Are they making fun of you?" 

"Shut up. What day are you leaving?" 

"I leave Monday evening." 

"Cali time or here time?" 

"I'm still on California time. I'm still not sure about the time difference. All I know is the clock says it's noon right now. But my ticket says Monday, at around 4 in the afternoon is departure." 

"Well…actually, I can't remember the time difference." 

"You flew here 8 days ago and you don't even remember the time difference anymore?" 

"It's been a long 8 days." 

"Alright, well…are you free Sunday?" 

"Sunday…unless evil monsters try to take over the world, I should be." 

"From what you've told me about your family, I should expect you to be late?" 

"I'll at most be exhausted. Anyways, where do you want to meet. I can guarantee you you won't be picking me up at my house." 

"Um…well, I'm staying…actually, I have no clue how to pronounce anything here. I know your name because it means Bread in Españish, and I know how to say sushi. That's about it outside of swear words. The only building I know that I can pronounce and that I can easily find is the Capsule Corps building." 

Pan groaned and dropped her head. 

"Are you sure that's the only building you can identify?" 

"I learned Españish. Not Japani-whatever-the-fuck-you-call-it." 

Pan laughed, smiling. "Japanese." 

"Yeah, that." 

"Baka Onna," she laughed, shaking her head. 

"I know that word! You just called me stupid! Don't call me that!" 

"Actually, I just called you a stupid woman, but then, oh well," Pan smirked, watching as Gohan and Trunks tried to cover their laughter. "So, alright. I'll meet you at Hell around nine on Sunday morning, ok?" 

"Hell? And nine where?" 

"Nine here in Japan. You'll have the time figured out by then. And hell is that damn building." 

"Capsule Corps," Trunks sniggered at the same time Jack said the name of the building. 

"Yeah. _That_ place. So we ok with that, Jack?" 

"Sure. See you Sunday." 

"'Bye Jack." 

She hung up the phone and slowly set it on the little table, moving towards Trunks and her father so that she might be able to eat something. 

"Young love, Panny?" Gohan asked, smiling at his daughter. 

She raised an eyebrow at her father as Trunks began to choke on his chopsticks. 

"Not hardly. College friend. He's in Orange City for some reason, and he wants me to show him around so he doesn't feel like a tourist." 

"Sounds like a date," Gohan continued. 

Pan shook her head and leaned over, patting Trunks on the back so that he'd cough up whatever was lodged in his throat. 

"I should…" he paused to cough. "I should probably get home. I want to get some sleep before I have to meet Mr. Summers tonight. Thanks for your help this week and especially last night, Pan." 

She nodded, waving good-bye, totally engrossed by the prospect of food. 

He moved to the door, nodding good-bye to ChiChi and Gohan, but paused, suddenly not liking the malicious glint that was horribly out of place in the older half-saiyan's eye.

******************  
A/N: Remember, Jack be mine. But now you gotta ask yourselves: why is Jack here? And could this mean more plot twists? 

-Panabelle ;P  
Shrine of the Saiyan Squirt


	79. Chapter 78: Smile, You're on Candid Came...

Disclaimer: I AM GIANT PINK DUST BUNNY! 

A/N: Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know..."HOLY SHIT! SHE FINALLY UPDATED!" *shakes head* Sorry, I had finals two weeks ago, and not only have I been dealing with the new semester starting, but my Lord has gotten me addicted to Escaflowne. Along with several other anime series...so yeah. Basically, I don't have an excuse. I've had this chapter mapped out in my head for a while, just haven't gotten around to writing it down. Anyways, it may be a while between chapters just out of sheer laziness and fear of finishing...I've spent so much time on PT, that it's like a part of me I'm afraid to leave behind. 

Don't bother listening to me, I'm ranting. Go ahead and read the chapter. It isn't long, but it's better than nothing.

*****************************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 78

  
  


A still portrait of lovers, their faces scant breaths apart, eyes half-lidded and half-shut. That crucial instant before the lips met and feelings were reciprocated. 

Bulma would have danced for joy, if she wasn't aware that no one had paused the tape, and that the two caught on camera had been sitting in the twilight of darkness unmoving and lost in that very embrace for more than a minute. 

Next to her, Videl had leaned forward in anticipation, both waiting for the two to kiss, as if it were a daytime drama or a romance novel, rather than their children. 

Another heartbeat passed. Videl lost her cool. 

She rocketed forward, gripping the sides of the monitor with both hands and shaking it. 

"Damn you, kiss each other already!" she cried, in turn making Bulma fall out of her chair. 

Almost as if Trunks and Pan had been able to predict Videl's outburst, the two drew away, Trunks saying something the cameras didn't pick up, Pan falling out of his arms laughing hysterically. 

The two mothers sighed as Bulma switched off the tape. 

"Gohan is not going to like this," Videl sighed, stepping back and shaking her head. "He doesn't want Pan to grow up." 

Bulma nodded, running and hand back through her aqua-marine hair. 

"I talked to Bra; she and Goten came down here a few nights ago while the two were working late. Goten doesn't want Trunks near Pan at all, apparently. He doesn't mind that they're friends, but he doesn't want to see Pan get hurt. Which is probably what Gohan is going through." 

Videl looked over at Bulma curiously. "How do we feel about it though, Bulma? I mean…there's 14 years between Trunks and Pan…" 

"Age doesn't matter to Saiyans. You know that just as well as I do; you've aged, and Gohan could still pass for the high school students he occasionally tutors. Trunks just got a head start on aging as far as he and Pan are concerned; and since she has half as much Saiyan blood in her veins as he does, they're probably well matched." The older woman sighed again and looked down at the blank monitor. "It doesn't matter how we feel, Videl. You and I will love them both forever, we're their mothers, we don't have a choice. What matters is how _they_ feel…" 

Bulma paused and the two women exchanged glances. 

"But knowing my son, he'll never tell her." 

"Nor Panny him." 

Bulma smirked and grabbed her purse. 

"Then let's go play matchmaker."

******************************  
A/N: Can't say I didn't warn you. But hey, better than nothing, right? Anyways, that's all for now...hopefully more soon. Oh! And about the contests I hold at my site (www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers), they are coming to a close. Entries for both are due by the 14th of this month. Meaning, 11 days from now. I have one entry between the two contests; if I don't get more entries, I'm cancelling the challenges. Forever. Just thought you might want to know; and there will be no deadline extensions this time. 

-Panabelle ;P


	80. Chapter 79: Family First

Disclaimer: *cries* I don't have anymore apple juice! Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah..... 

A/N: Sorry this took a while guys, I really don't have any excuse. I've gotten hooked on Escaflowne, and am dividing my time between PT and my Escaflowne fic Between Dreams. Also, my social life has pciked up. *quirks eyebrow; face fault* Dude, I have a social life?! *laughs at herself* But yeah. Between this chapter and the next, I can guarantee there won't be nearly as long you guys will have to wait. 

**************************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 79

  
  


Ultimately, it was the fear of drowning that made the decision for her. 

As wonderfully sensuous as a bubble bath sounded, she was terrified of falling asleep in the tub and drowning; and the headlines for that would be absolutely hysterical: 

World Savior, and daughter to Saiyaman and Videl Son, dies under attack by fluffy pink bubbles. 

However, a too-hot-to-handle shower was just as luxurious. 

Even if the water had been cold for the last half hour. 

Pan let out a groan as she turned her face into the ice cold spray. 

It was over. 

After a week in that damned, fancy box, it was over. 

No more budgets, no more patents. No more clients, no more conference calls. No more Sock Puppet of Smelly Death. No more copy machine. 

No more waking up to find Trunks sleeping at the kitchen table waiting to take her back to work. No longer would she throw sharpened pencils at the ceiling, aiming for Trunks, or he at her. She wouldn't have to fight with the fax machine from hell ever again, or deal with teeny-bopper spawn of Lucifer. If she got home at one in the morning, it'd be because a party ran late, not because she was behind; and she wouldn't have to get up six hours later and climb back into "the box". 

It was over. 

It was finally over. 

She smiled almost bitterly into the steady spray of ice water, trying not to let her eyes roll back into her head from the sheer joy of the knowledge that she'd be in bed by fix o-clock pm, wearing fuzzy flannel pajamas beneath clean sheets, her head on the pillow and her eyes closed to everything but her dreams. 

It was nearly an aphrodisiac. 

Turning off the water and reaching past the curtain to grope blindly for her towel, a thought slashed across her mind as if she'd be shot by an arrow. 

What if she missed working at Capsule Corp? 

What if she missed waking up every morning able to see Trunks fast asleep? What if she missed his childish antics when stress and hunger got to him? And would she ever see him so unguarded and open again? 

And what about the clientele, and the girls in the building-who had finally started to get used to her. And the Sock Puppet of Smelly Death, and the copy machine. Hell! The rabid fangirls that stormed the office like a Southern California SWAT team on a daily basis; what if she missed them too? 

Wrapping the towel around her lithe form and using another to dry her hair, she opened the bathroom door and padded down the hall, rolling her eyes and mentally telling herself that 15 hours of sleep would remedy her delirious thinking. 

"Pan?" she heard her mother call from downstairs as she passed the stairwell. She backtracked, standing at the head of the stairs. "Pan!" 

"What?" 

Confused at her mother's mortification, she looked past her, and suddenly noticed a very red faced Trunks-in-a-tux standing by the open front door, sunset's rays streaming in behind him and up the stairs, the rectangle of light painting her legs and the bottom three inches of the towel in blues and pinks and yellows. She felt her insides boiling with embarrassment, but she didn't let it show. She instead forced herself to stay put, and addressed the fact that Trunks was dressed up and standing in her living room, as opposed to the fact that she was hardly dressed and standing in full view of everyone who wasn't in the kitchen. 

"Trunks, do I want to know?" 

Blushing violently, he shook his head. 

"Pan! Go put some clothes on!" Videl hissed, obviously outraged-she had raised her daughter better than this. "Before your father comes in here!" 

As if on cue, Gohan stepped out of the kitchen. 

"Vide-oh, hi Trunks. She was in the shower when you called, I ha-" 

He abruptly choked on the words as he followed the mortified gaze of his wife to the head of the stairs and found his daughter standing there, quite naked under a thin white towel that was too short, too small, and showed too much of her body for his liking. 

Especially where Trunks could see. 

"Pan, what in the name of-" 

"Daddy, calm down. He's seen me in less." 

"WHAT!??!" 

Trunks coughed violently, his insides wrenching up inside of him, using any excuse to turn around and not look at her before Gohan hurt him. 

"You were also three, Pan," he wheezed weakly, shying away from Gohan's angry gaze. 

"Pan, go get dressed," Gohan ordered through clenched teeth. 

"Shit." 

Trunks whirled away from the doorway and blurred up the stairs, grabbing Pan and yanking her out of sight. 

"Trunks! Watch it, I need that!" 

He ignored her exclamations and leaned past her and to his left, peering down the stairs. 

He was met face-to-face by a very angry Gohan. 

"Care to explain?" Gohan growled, joining them behind the wall, his eyes flashing green as he stared down at the younger half-saiyan. 

Reflexively, Trunks's hands tightened their hold on Pan and the towel; he swallowed and glanced back down the stairs, watching as his client greeted an awkward and confused Videl. 

He swallowed and leaned back, looking at Pan and about to piss his pants as he realized the position they were in. 

She giggled quietly as it finally dawned on him that he had her pinned against the wall, mere inches between them, his hands on her hips hiking up her towel to almost-not-so-decent heights. He stepped back to let his hands drop to his sides, but she grabbed the front of his tux and yanked his face down to hers. 

"You let go, the towel lets go-so don't let go!" she hissed nervously, her eyes wide with the fear of flashing her father and best friend. 

"I'm waiting," Gohan growled, growing impatient. His hair moved as if in a breeze, his eyes now a solid green. "Care to explain?" 

Trunks swallowed thickly, then smirked disdainfully, his palms sweating against Pan's hips. Instinctively, his hands tightened, grasping her almost intimately. 

The action didn't go past Gohan unnoticed. 

"Trunks…" 

"Alright…I have a business dinner tonight with a very 'family first' client…nothing new, Bra and I have handled them before. Unfortunately, my mother decided it would be cute if she were to tell him that my 'fiancé' and I would be taking them out for this little business negotiation." 

"Fiancé!?" Pan and Gohan spat out, staring at him in shock. 

Downstairs, they could hear Videl talking with unknown voices. 

"My 'fiancé', 'wife-to-be', yes." 

"Since when have you been engaged!?" Pan demanded, her eyes flashing with emotions she was trying to surpress. 

Trunks turned his gaze to her, the hurt in her voice striking a chord inside of him that resonated with guilt, even if there really was nothing to be guilty about. He blinked, his blue eyes hesitant, but was cut off by Gohan. 

"Who in the name of Dende is your fiancé?" he growled, the shock of Trunks's words wearing off. He stared, hurt, dejected, and almost…accepting…as he watched Trunks gently squeeze Pan's hips again, obviously uncomfortable with her forced lack of modesty. 

Trunks flicked his eyes to hers again before slowly turning his head to look at her father, giving him a look very reminiscent of that of a smug cat. 

"I'll give you one guess." 

Gohan's rage manifested itself in blond hair and a raging inferno. 

"What?!" Pan hissed, eyes wide. Trunks pressed her against his chest and turned his back as the inferno of power that had gathered around Gohan exploded in every direction. She braced herself against him, clinging desperately to her towel. 

"Gohan! Not in the house!" came Videl's voice from downstairs as his energy shattered every window and escaped into the night. 

Trunks warily replaced the distance between himself and Pan and set her back against the wall, eyes boring into hers as he tried to ignore the white swell of her breast that peaked up over the top of the towel. Face beat red, he coughed quietly; she got the hint and turned just as crimson as she pulled the top of the towel back up. 

Taking a deep breath and looking down at her, then back at Gohan, he sighed. His face went from smug cat to whipped puppy with a devastating crash of his features. "As of two hours ago, my mother decided that I asked you to marry me this morning at dawn," he sighed. "My mother also decided to send you with me instead of Bra-not just because you know what's going on with Mr. Summer's dilemma, but because she thinks it will be cute. To top it all off, she went all out to make sure we can't get out of this in any way, shape, or form that short of making a scene and 'calling it all off'." 

Pan shivered and pulled her towel tighter around her breasts to compensate for the unladylike break in the towel that reveal the side her of her entire left leg and part of her waist, Trunks's hand the only thing keeping it from falling open completely. 

"My thoughts exactly," he said gently, his head falling a little as he looked down at his hands. Carefully, he fixed the parting of the towel and put his hand back on her hip, though there was obviously no reason to have it there anymore. He glanced back up into her eyes, and they both knew where this idea had come from. 

The security cameras. 

Gohan growled beside them, and Pan let her head fall forward, surprising both Trunks and her father as she let her face fall into the crook of the younger half-saiyan's neck. Gohan went into shock; Trunks' breath caught before his left arm lifted of it own volition and his hand settled in the hollow between her shoulder blades, his fingers tenderly pressing against her bare skin. 

"So I can assume Bulma's gone to great lengths to make sure I have a dress and all of that too, huh?" she mumbled into his collar, turning her face. Her eyes landed on her father, seeing the look of loss in his eyes. Blinking rapidly, suddenly aware of the conclusion he was drawing, she swallowed thickly. 

"She told me she'd sent all of that over about an hour ago." 

With a slow and tired exhalation of air, she pushed herself away from him and leaned back against the wall. His hand fell back to her hip. 

"That explains where Mom was this afternoon…" Breathing deeply, she rolled her lips in on each other and tightened them into a pitiful smile; she raised her eyebrows and lowered them again as she let the breath out. "Alright then…guess I'll be out here to play her little game in about 20 minutes." 

And with that, she pulled away from him and padded down the hall to her room. 

Closing the door behind her, she staggered. The towel fell away and she leaned back against the door, sliding slowly down it, legs to either side of her, knees pressed together. 

She didn't know which was worse. 

The touch of Trunks's warm hands still lingering on her skin and the emotions they stirred, or the betrayed look on her father's face that made it obvious he didn't see himself as needed.

********************  
A/N: *yawns* I just love week-long breaks from school; I have all the time in the morning to write, and then the evenings are free to socialize as late as I damned well feel like it. Anywho, yup. Oh, and the voting for my fanfic challenge is taking place right now. Go check it out and vote, it's all at my page. 

-Panabelle ;P  
www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers


	81. Chapter 80: No Point

Disclaimer: *wishes Jack hadn't burned that picture* 

A/N: Told you I'd get this chapter up faster. I'd have had it up last night if not for whatever technical difficulties ff.net was suffering. And I know it's not operator malfunction this time either because Cyberleah couldn't get on either! Anyways, yeah. Here ya go guys. 

*************************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 80

  
  


Slowly, Gohan turned and left him there alone in the hall, the older man's anger and power falling away as he trudged down the stairs. 

Trunks leaned against the wall, pressing his forehead against the paint and drawing a shaky breath between his teeth before turning and placing his back against the wall, tilting back his head and letting the wall support him. 

He could still see the reaction on Pan's face when she figured out his 'fiancé' was her…it was hurt and yet…almost…hopeful… 

He shook his head violently putting the heal of his palm to his forehead. He knew he should get downstairs, but he couldn't. Every time he moved to follow Gohan, his insides twinged, something inside of him protesting with the resonating hurt that had been in Pan's voice. 

_Was she betrayed because she thought I had deliberately not told her, or had forgotten too…or because I hadn't asked her to be-_

He tore the thought off with an angry snarl. 

She didn't think of him like that-he was too old, and might as well be her brother, or another uncle for the brothership he and Goten had once had. She didn't think of him like that. 

He looked down at his hands. They still tingled with her warmth, with the hard and yet soft curves he had felt beneath the towel… 

With a groan, he raked his hands through his hair in agitation, ruining the perfect placement of every strand that he had painstakingly prepared for the image he upheld as president of Capsule Corps. 

_Do it_, something inside of him whispered. _You've been wanting to all week…just tell her. Say it through the door, stand at the window with your back to her; you've told her while she's slept every night…just tell her._

Perhaps his exhaustion was why he dared to listen to the tiny voice…one that sounded almost like his mother's, but that he knew was his own. But he pushed himself away from the wall and moved to her door, hesitantly bringing up his hand and knocking quietly. 

"Pan?" he called hoarsely, softly, through the wood. "Pan, can I talk to you?" 

There came a frantic sound of shuffling from within, then her voice, tired and hurried. 

"Yeah, hang on a sec and you can come in." 

"No, Pan, it's ok. You don't have to let me in, just listen, that's all," he said hurriedly. He pressed his forehead against the wood, his voice quiet. "I just need to talk." 

There came another scuffle, and then the door opened. He lifted his head from the wood, his tormented eyes taking in her agile form, the way the dark blue dress clung to her as she stood there, midnight's homespun silk tumbled about her shoulders and back, disarrayed and hued the deepest indigo in the light of the sunset. Her deep blue eyes, as blue as the sky around the moon at night, twinkled with their own stars, filling with concern…her skin looked like porcelain, and yet it didn't; it looked soft and supple. He knew it was. 

He sighed inwardly…he couldn't do it. He couldn't say it. 

He couldn't do that to her…put her in situation where she'd have to make her up mind, possibly her heart. Couldn't risk losing her. 

"Trunks? Trunks, what's wrong?" she asked, reaching out and setting the soft underside of her wrist against his forehead. 

He smiled and laughed silently, pulling his head just out of her reach. 

"Nothing's wrong," he told her. "I just want to know if you're ok with this…I mean…" 

She smiled at him and poked him in the chest with her index finger. 

"You mean being your future wife for the night?" She laughed, but there was a weight to it. "Nah, I don't have a problem with it. I've been everything else in my life where you're concerned;" she begin listing off 'occupations' on her fingers as she let him into the room and closed the door with her thigh, "best friend, sister, niece, prom date, confidant, daughter, mother, supervisor, therapist, secretary, bodyguard…the list goes on. Why not add wife or fiancé on there while I still have the chance?" 

He looked over at her. She was just as uncomfortable with this as he was, but she was going through with it, because he needed her to. 

"Look, Pan," he started, but she cut him off, turning her back to him and asking him to tie the back of the dress closed for him. 

_Say it now! Say it now!_ the voice inside of him commanded. 

"Pan, there's something I want to tell you…" 

"Yeah?" 

His hands fumbled with the strings, and he shook his head, clearing his mind. 

"I just want to say that…" he trailed off as a picture on her vanity drew his attention. Tying off the strings, he felt his heart crush. 

It was a picture of Pan, clinging to another guy, a guy with short and fluffy blond hair, his steel-blue eyes laughing as he looked up at Pan, who had draped herself over his shoulder. She wore his glasses on the top of her head and he was trying to get them back, the two were in the midst of toppling over. Her hair was tied off into two braids, one to either side of her neck, her deep blue eyes just as happy as his. 

Trunks lost his nerve; he knew without saying that the boy in the photo was Jack. 

He had seen her on the phone a few hours ago, he had heard the love in her voice. 

And he could see it in that picture. 

"Trunks? You alive back there?" she asked, turning around and kneeling before him. She set her hands on his knees, surprising him with the ease she moved in the dress. She looked up into his eyes. "Trunks, I think _I_ should be the one asking _you_ if you're ok with this." 

He smiled and startled her with a hug. 

"Shit, you're beautiful Panny," he whispered, squeezing her tightly before reaching behind him and snatching a blue silk ribbon from the box his mother had left her. 

"Trunks?" She pushed away, then laughed and walked towards her vanity, picking up a brush and running it through her hair. "Don't worry," she laughed, winking at him in the mirror, "I won't let Daddy do anything to you." 

He glanced at her, then smiled and wove the ribbon back and forth between his fingers. She didn't get it. 

_Let her think what she wants to think_, the voice inside of him whispered sadly. _There's no point in telling her otherwise._

************************  
A/N: Could it-could it be? Am I really...no, I couldn't finally be getting to the point, could I? No...it's not...no....'cause that means.....WEEEEEEEEEEE! 

*laughs* Ain't it great when you can laugh at yourself? Anyways, just something I should tell you all: All will be explain in time, and time is coming to an end. 

-Panabelle ;P  
www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers


	82. Chapter 81: Tangled

Disclaimer: *snores, face smashed into the keyboard* *a disgrunted Saraneth reads _Crime and Punishment_, Jack reclines in the hair falling off Panabelle's head onto her arm, summarizing the book, which is their mistress's homework* 

A/N: I've tried reading that book, really I have. But it puts me to sleep. I figured I'd be better off putting my time to use that won't make me enemies. *shrugs* This is what cliff notes are for. *hugs Jack and Neth* And loving muses... *Jack swears colorfully as he tries to get away; Saraneth tries to pry herself loose without crushing her wings*

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Petrified Tears  
chapter 81

  
  


Something was wrong. 

She could see it in his eyes. Those cerulean blue diamonds had gone black, his irises so dark that they seemed an extension of his pupils. She watched him in the mirror, watching as he played idly with the ribbon, his eyes watching her and her movements, looking past the ribbon into himself. 

She sighed, then squeaked as she managed to get the brush stuck in her hair. 

Fighting with it with childish abandon, she squeaked sobbingly, praying he was too exhausted to notice her plight and thus spare her the humiliation. 

_Note to self_, she thought angrily, tugging, tears forming in the corner of her eyes, _Never go on autopilot when you can't remember when the last time you slept was._

Doubled over and pulling for all she was worth, she felt about to sizzle to a crisp and die of embarrassment as gentle hands closed over hers and pried her fingers away from the brush. Slowly, the brush was removed, as if it'd never really been stuck in her hair at all. 

Sheepishly she straightened and faced Trunks, whose eyes sparkled a little with laughter, flickering indecisively between bright and dark. 

"Sit down," he instructed, hiding his laughter, pointing to the high stool that sat before her vanity. Like an obedient child, she obeyed, starting as he set his hands on her hips and turned her to face the mirror, drawing the brush gently through her hair. 

"T-trunks?" 

He laughed a little, his fingers moving shyly through her hair. 

"I can't show up downstairs with you bald, now can I Panny? How would that look?" She laughed in spite of herself, his fingers gently untangling her mostly-dry hair. 

"_You_ know how to do hair?" she asked tauntingly. 

His eyes met hers, and life sparked behind them. "Can you really look at my mother's, my sister's, and my _own_ hair and have the audacity to ask that with a straight face?" 

She giggled, and watched as the life behind his eyes died. 

"If I didn't know better, I'd say this is bothering you, Trunks," she replied, leaning back against his chest as he pulled her bangs forward, glancing up at his eyes in the mirror. 

His held hers briefly, but then he glanced back down at her head and drew his fingers along the sides of her temples, separating her hair into two sections: upper and lower. 

"What is?" 

He knew what she meant. But he was pretending he didn't. Either something was _really_ bothering him, or he didn't want her to know. 

She was willing to place big money on a combination of the two. 

"This," she repeated. "Tonight, this whole fiancé bit." 

His fingers stalled in her hair, and something flashed across his eyes. But the moment passed with a blink, and his fingers returned to the braids he was working into the upper section of midnight. He sighed. Something told her she wasn't going to get the whole truth. 

"It is…" His fingers slowed as he pulled the braids and loose hair back into a professional bun, reaching past her to grab at her collection of bobby pins. He sighed. "It's my mom's 'subtle' nudging about how she's not getting any younger. And that I really _should_ be getting married." 

He toyed absentmindedly with the end of her hair, oblivious to the way it tickled her and the helpless smile that formed on her lips. She closed her eyes, enjoying the movements of his hands and fingers, the way his actions were shy as if he had no right, but still assertive, as if he did. 

She wasn't aware of it at first, but somewhere, dimly, it dawned on her that she was falling asleep. Trunks's voice, speaking quietly and sincerely echoed in her mind. For a brief moment she could have sworn she'd heard him say he loved her, but then it dawned on her that she was dreaming. She struggled into consciousness, hearing him say her name repeatedly, gently patting her cheek to wake her. 

"Pan?" 

She blinked her eyes and he took a step back, almost causing her to fall off the stool. 

"Hmm? I'm sorry, you say something Trunks?" 

He blinked, then shook his head with a quiet smile. "Just that we should probably get downstairs," he replied, helping her to her feet. Part of her deflated. She _had_ just been dreaming. 

She smiled and started for the door, but froze as his fingers glissed across the bare of her back, his arms reaching over her head, the wide blue ribbon stretched gently between them. His hands moved back towards his own body, the ribbon draping itself across her breasts, but then tightening tenderly against her neck. Her hair was swept out of the way, his fingers moving. She dared to breathe again as she felt the ends of the ribbon grace the skin between her shoulder blades with a nonexistent touch. Trunks gathered her hair back into his hands, settling it back behind her. 

Her eyes fluttered as if he had just kissed her, her chest rose and fell visibly. She closed her eyes and brought a hand up to her temple as butterflies clouded her vision, hearing Trunks open the door. 

"Panny?" he said gently, his fingers covering hers. Her eyes fluttered open, and she smiled sheepishly again. His eyes had softened; they were still dark, but they were a warm blue again, bluer than her own, as they should be. "Are you alright?" 

"Yeah, I'm fine…just a little dizzy," she mumbled, offering him a smile, her mind reeling as his fingers covered hers, their two hands intertwining unintentionally. 

"Tired?" he asked, pulling his hand away and holding his arm out to her playfully, though he didn't look like he really wanted to play. 

She opened her mouth to speak, but then thought better of it. "Yeah," she mumbled quietly, taking his arm and grabbing her purse as they left the room. "Just a little."

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A/N: Yes, it's a miracle. Three updates in 6 days. Don't get used to it. ;P And just to say something: back in the first 20 or so chapters, I wa bitching for reviews because NOBODY reviewed. Then, you will note, I STOPPED. So please, STOP MENTIONING THAT! *screams* 

-Panabelle ;P  
www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers


	83. Chapter 82: Sacrifice

Disclaimer: *borrows Jack's torch; flames _Crime and Punishment_ page by page* 

A/N: Ok, ok. Another chapter. (Another two, actually.) Oh well. I'm spoiling you guys. Don't harass me for a while, alright? 

***************************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 82

  
  


Gohan stood silently next to his wife, oblivious of the fact that every window was now resting comfortable in millions of pieces on the front lawn. 

His heart was shattered into more pieces than that. 

He closed his eyes, wincing as the image of Trunks and his daughter replayed in his mind, his daughter hardly modest, Trunks trying to ignore the fact that she was. 

Videl laced her arm through his; he blinked and forced his eyes open, trying his damnedest to focus, but completely unable to. The room around him was painted blurry and in shades of grey; nothing made any sound at all; it was all silent. 

"It's hard to see them grow up, isn't it." 

The voice, so laced with empathy, with…with not only understanding, but having _been_ there…it cracked through the silence in his mind, allowing the gentle rustle of the curtains in the breeze, his wife's breathing, the quiet hum of his mother as she placed photos in the family album, his brother meditating in the corner, allowing _life_ to reach him. 

He looked at the old man, his red face and slightly balding head, the pudginess that was simply a part of growing old. There was something in the man's eyes, an innocence that Gohan had seen before. The old man smiled. 

"It's hard to watch them grow up, isn't it?" he repeated. Gohan sighed, nodding sadly. 

"Terribly." He hesitated, but then found himself continuing. "You'd almost think that it'd be easier as they get older. But it's not." 

The old man set a hand on his shoulder. "The only time it gets any easier is when you can smile and watch them go through everything you did for them, only with their own children. And even then, the memories are haunting." 

Gohan smiled weakly at the man, understanding about haunting memories. He could see his little girl hugging Trunks's leg when he was a senior in high school as he dragged himself by the walls down the hallway to put her to bed. And at the same time, he could see her clutching her towel and held tightly in his arms, her face nestled in his neck, the smile Trunks placed in her hair as his fingers pressed lovingly into the bare of her back. 

He closed his eyes, wishing the image away. Opening them, he looked up the stairs almost wistfully, only to be assaulted with the image of his Panny, his beautiful little girl, perfectly in focus and absolutely gorgeous. 

The dress came to her knees, a deep navy blue that accented her hair and eyes perfectly, setting off a china doll effect with her skin that he had only ever known his mother to possess. The bodice fit her snuggly, the skirt flaring a little, stylishly. There were no sleeves, just simple straps, and he knew without looking that the dress had a mock-corset back that laced from the end of her spine to her shoulder blades-Videl had once worn that very dress to their engagement dinner. Her hair was done simply, the hair by her temples braided back to meet in a bun with the upper layers of her hair, the rest spilling gracefully over her shoulders, her bangs splayed perfectly over her forehead. A blue ribbon was tied around her neck, a simple bow tied in the back, the ends left to trail downwards with her hair. She was actually wearing heels, strappy blue shoes with a thin heel that seemed an extension of her legs. She was smiling; there was this radiant glow about her, but it seemed forced. 

His gaze turned to Trunks, the boy's completely black tux absolutely perfect, like always, but his hair was disheveled in a way that would drive girls crazy, his face seemed pale and flushed at the same time. 

He felt his eyes darken. 

"The hardest part," the old man continued, drawing his attention before his temper grew out of hand, "is knowing that you have to give them up for someone else to take care of. But there's something about little girls…they always need their fathers." 

Gohan blinked black eyes that seemed to suddenly come to life. He looked back up at his little girl as she came within view of the foyer, her eyes laughing though exhausted. He turned once again to the old man. 

"I'm sorry, I'm afraid I missed your name Mr…" 

"Summers," the old man told him with a smile. "Richard Summers." He took a step back to indicate the young man standing behind him. "And this is my grandson-" 

"Jack?!" Pan suddenly cried, her voice cracking and her eyes wide. Gohan didn't know if she was excited, or mortified. 

"Pan?" the boy whispered, his face just as unreadable as hers. But then his steel blue eyes grew hard and dark, his cheek twitched. He grabbed his glasses from his face and walked closer to the couple, his face wounded and raged. His entire form was tight with anger. 

"Jack, what are you doing here?" she whispered, forcing herself to let go of Trunks' arm and stand on her own at the foot of the stairs. "I thought you had dinner with your grand…father…" she trailed off, wincing at her own words. "Oh no, Jack…let-" 

The boy trembled and clenched first his jaw, then his fist. "Yeah. You were going to stay home and sleep tonight. I see how it is." The boy's eyes flared, seemingly unaware that he had just destroyed his glasses. "Oh, and congratulations for you and Mr. _Won_derful-thanks a lot for letting _me_ know," he spat before turning on his heel and storming out the door. 

Gohan, Videl and the boy's grandfather stood stiffly, each trading wary glances. Pan stood frozen, her hand half raised to the empty air where Jack had stood moments before. Her eyes were dead and wounded, her face a portrait of shock. Trunks fidgeted nervously behind her, hesitating before setting his hand on her shoulder. 

The touch brought her to life. 

"Jack!" she cried, tearing away from him and sprinting past her parents and Mr. Summers, breaking through them and towards the front door and the dark night. "Jack! Wait!" 

But Trunks beat her to the door, blocking her waist with his arm, letting her run into him. She strained against his arms as the other came around to hold her side tightly to his chest. She could see Jack as he leaned against the limo, his back to the house and his shoulders slumped. 

"Pan, leave him be," Trunks whispered, ducking his head and pressing his nose into her ear. "Please Pan, leave it be. We'll explain this whole situation to them both at dinner, just please let it be for now." 

Tears shimmered in her eyes, tears that gripped Gohan and that visibly wounded Trunks. Trunks held her tighter, lifting a hand and tucking hair behind her ear. Gohan heard the pain, the love, the _sacrifice_, in the boy's voice as he soothed her. 

"But Trunks, I can't-" 

"He wouldn't believe you right now, Panny," Trunks whispered, gently running his hand across her hair, stroking it, soothing her. "He wouldn't believe a word you'd tell him, especially with how I'm holding you right now." 

"You shouldn't have-" 

"It wouldn't have mattered." He forced himself to straighten, curling his fingers and lifting Pan's chin with the side of his knuckle, forcing her to look up at him. He dropped his forehead onto hers, immediately sensing the words raging inside her. He lifted his hand, tenderly wiping away her tears with his thumb, his face sallow and his expression strained. "I know I don't know him, but I know you, Panny, and that's enough." 

She breathed erratically, her chest rising and falling rapidly with her half-sobbed gasps; all Gohan wanted to do was step forward and draw his little girl into his arms, but Trunks was doing a better job than he ever could. 

Her gaze traveled to the boy outside, who was now looking back at her. 

"I just…" 

Trunks wiped away another tear and held her close once more, pressing a kiss to her temple. 

"I know."

***************************  
A/N: Kudos to DR. SQUEE on figuring out why Jack was in Japan. Heh heh heh...some of you are learning. ;P But at the same time, you weren't a'pposed to figure that out! Oh well, at least I know that some of you are paying attention so I know I'm not just kicking this stuff out of the blue at you all. Now remember, Jack is mine. You can't have him. Just like the Sock Puppet of Smelly Death, he's not allowed to make guest appearances, AT ALL. Anyhoo, on with the other chapter I have for tonight. 

-Panabelle ;P  
www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers 


	84. Chapter 83: Let it Be

Disclaimer: *sings songs about the glory of Cheez* 

A/N: Remember you guys have to stop harassing me about updates now. And because bella was so adament, remember: wise man saieth that smiles come freely; make your authors smile with reviews. ;P There ya go, Bella. 

*************************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 83

  
  


He stood in the doorway, his face dark, eyes darker, watching as the girl and her 'fiancé' got into the limo. 

The girl was still distraught, but seemed more emotionally dead than anything. The boy had climbed into the front with the limo driver, no doubt to avoid any awkward conversation; he had seemed human enough, and a nice enough guy. 

As for the purple-headed bastard… 

He'd had no right to hold her like that. No right at all to murmur so intimately into her ear, to press that kiss to her temple. 

He ground his teeth, his black eyes flashing dangerously, a green hue to them. He squared his stiff shoulders and crossed his arms over his chest. 

He wouldn't let him get away with hurting her like that. 

"Let it go, Brother, it's over," came the voice from behind him. A strong and calloused hand set itself on his shoulder. He turned his head slightly, watching out of the corner of his eye as the limo drove away. Once the car was out of sight, he met the black eyes and black hair inherited from their father head on. His brother smiled reassuringly at him. 

"Let it be. He's a better man than either of us would admit to him being right now, and he was right. The boy wouldn't have believed a word she'd have said." 

He ground his teeth, unbelieving of his brother. 

"It'll all work out. Let it be." 

He growled and tore away from his brother's grasp, glaring through the hair that hung over his eyes, past the hair that hung in his brother's. 

"Maybe for you. But I can't allow this." 

He strolled angrily out into the night, standing in the yard for a moment, letting his anger manifest itself around him briefly. With a growl, he dropped it, and then sprang to the roof, where he crouched in waiting.

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A/N: Damn straight it's a cliffhanger! But which brother was it? 

-Panabelle ;P  
www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers


	85. Chapter 84: Crushed

Disclaimer: *holds chibi Ash doll in her lap and stares blankly at the keyboard* 

A/N: I put a note up forever ago that unless you all stopped harassing me about this thing, I'd kill it. Well, it's not dead. I don't intend to. And I know that it's been over 3 months since I've updated, but I've developed a life. Fuck you if you don't like that. Just deal with the fact that I have things actually more important than writing a fanfic. So don't just make a 'review' telling me to update. I ignore those, and am actually going to go back and start deleteing them. 

Sorry, had to do that. It's been grating on my nerves for a looooong while. *deep cleansing breath* But yeah! I'm updating. For those who have been going to my site, you'll have been seeing the "look for chapters in late june" notices. Well, I'm giving you chapters now. *waves little flag* So yeah. Just remember that Jack belongs to me. Well, the character anyhoo.

*******************************************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 84

  
  


It had hurt so much when she had left. 

He had held her in his arms so tightly he had been afraid of breaking her, had buried his nose into the crook of her neck, his shoulders stooped and his knees bent so that he could do it. She'd never admit that she was crying as they had stood in the living room, her arms clinging to him, one hand lost in his hair, holding his head to her shoulder, the other arm draped tightly across his back, and he'd never admit that his tears were staining her hair, that as he embraced her, he crushed his glasses in his fist. But they had both been crying. She in her own silent way, too proud to let others see her tears, he in his own silent way, his tears slipping away unnoticed. 

He had thought that when he found her again, when she came back to him, or when he went to her, he'd be able to hold her like that. Not that he wanted her to fly into his arms, or that he wanted to walk up to her and hold her so intimately in front of everyone who was there, but he had entertained the thought, holding it dear in his heart. He had wanted to be able to see her again, let her bounce up to him in that way she'd always had and would hopefully never lose, throwing an arm over his shoulders in a friendly attack and throw him off balance, her eyes sparkling as she cried his name and said hello. And then he had wanted to be able to find her where no one else could, and just hold her, hold her and know that she loved him as much as he loved her, as he had held her and he had known that day they had said good-bye. 

But as she had come down the stairs, laughing and smiling, radiant with a shimmer he had thought he had been the only one to have ever seen, holding the arm of Mr. Wonderful, he had known it wasn't going to happen. Her eyes hadn't sparkled when she'd cried his name upon seeing him, her face had broken into terror and pain rather than happiness and surprise. She hadn't bounced, she had stiffened. 

And she hadn't made him feel loved. She had made him feel downright worthless and unwanted; not only lying to him about what she had been doing that night, but about her engagement to Mr. Wonderful as well. 

He raised his eyes, meeting two pairs of blue across from him. One pair was shielded-professional and yet guarded as if he were protecting himself or someone else from his own emotions. The other pair was dark, almost dead, and dry. 

Jack felt his jaw tighten yet said nothing, looking back down at his untouched plate before pushing it away and shifting in his chair, lifting his hips and pulling his cards from his pocket. 

"Jack," his grandfather started, but then sighed and let it go, looking down at his own plate and then back at the wine glass he cupped in his fingers, swirling the white wine within. 

He pulled the worn red cards from their mutilated box, shoving the jokers back inside, and shuffled, the steady rhythm of the bridge soothing some part of him deep inside where words and fingers couldn't touch. Out of the corner of his eye-his good eye, his bad eye forced to struggle through without his glasses-he saw Pan shiver in time with the cards. If he didn't know better, the cadence of the bridge was upsetting her. 

Good. 

Mr. Wonderful cleared his throat, glancing over at Pan as she gripped the skirt of her dress with both hands under the table. He set his hands over hers and looked at his grandfather. 

"Mr. Summers, I…we have a bit of a confession to make." Mr. Wonderful hesitated and his eyes turned back to Pan's. She lifted her eyes for the first time since dinner had started, looking first into the cobalt blue eyes of Mr. Wonderful, then past into his own steel grey eyes. He met her gaze briefly before looking down at the cards as he bridged. 

He didn't wait for Mr. Wonderful to continue. Quietly, he set his deck on the table, pushing away his chair as he muttered some excuse and left them. 

And then he left the room. 

He heard Pan draw in a breath to call him back, but he also heard the catch that held her back. The catch that knew him and that knew that he needed nothing to do with her. 

He went onto one of the balconies of the restaurant, leaning against the casing with his back to the room and his arms folded across his chest. Crossing his legs at the ankle he put all of his weight against the shoulder propping him up. His eyes gazed out over the gardens below the balcony, past them to the lights of the city. 

The city was beautiful, he wouldn't deny that. She had told him a thousand times and he had believed her every time. But no matter how many times she had told him he was wrong, she could never convince him that _she_ wasn't. 

He sighed reached into his pocket and pulled his glasses out, holding them gingerly with his fingertips, turning them over in his hands as he studied the broken lenses. He had crushed his glasses that day, when she had left him alone in a world of people who hardly understood him and who he couldn't talk to. 

He had crushed them again only hours ago. 

With the same emotion as the first time. 

He sighed and clutched them in his fist, pushing his other hand into his pocket, and gazed out over the city once more.

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A/N: Hmm...a little character insight here? Maybe? Who knows. And wtf was up with that little 'she loved him as much as he loved her' comment? Hmm. I guess you'll just have to keep reading to find out. 

-Panabelle ;P  
www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers


	86. Chapter 85: Unhappy

Disclaimer: *Chibi Trunks pulls on pant leg, pouts at the chibi doll* *scoops action figure into arms and squeezes* *Chibi Trunks squirms in attempt at freedom* 

A/N: Wait a minute here--keep reading? AAH!? Did I update another chapter? *looks* _I did! I did!_ Oh, and remember ya'll, reviews are like smiles. They brighten your day.

***************************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 85

  
  


"I'll go get him," Mr. Summers started but Pan held out her hand before her, shaking her head no. 

"He's so caught up in his own little world right now that he wouldn't understand," she said quietly, smiling sadly. Trunks's fingers tightened on her hand as the older man eyed her worriedly. She ducked her head, not willing to meet the old man's gaze. 

"Panny?" Trunks whispered, ducking his head close to hers, pushing his nose into her ear, trying to make her smile. She bit the side of her bottom lip as he put his arm over her shoulders and ducked his face, trying to look into hers. "You alright, PanPan?" 

She blushed at the nickname, twisting her shoulders, trying to free herself from his hold. He only gave her another squeeze, kissing her temple briefly. 

"Miss Son, Mr. Briefs," their client broke in, his eyes concerned and confused. He shifted his hold on his wine glass, setting it down without taking his elbow from the table, leaving his fingers to gliss along the glass rim. "What is it that you need to speak to me about?" 

Trunks opened his mouth to start, but his breath fell away before even touching the words as Pan leaned forward and pulled the top card from the deck that Jack had abandoned before leaving. The two older men watched her as she sat back into her seat and smiled at the card. 

"The ace of spades…lucky card…" She sighed and twirled the card in her fingers. 

"Miss Son?" 

"Pan?" 

She blinked and looked up, looking between the two men with a smile that was as sincere as it was sad. 

"Hmm? Oh…sorry. It was a game we played…At the frat house…er…well, we _called_ it a frat house, but it wasn't…isn't. Some friends of Jack's and classmates of mine decided we were tired of the fraternity boys and sorority sisters and decided to make our own. It was basically a house bought on campus, for the outsiders and outcasts who wanted to be part of a group but couldn't stand tradition, a complete fraud that just looked good for those of us on scholarship. So we had three floors: the main floor for mingling, the 'sorority' floor, and the 'fraternity' floor. It's a long story." 

She laughed again, a bit of her happiness returning for the first time since she'd come down the stairs of her own home a few hours ago. She smiled up at Mr. Summers, seeing traces of her college friend in his face, but not finding him there. She was glad about that. 

"We called ourselves the Bicycle House by Jack's suggestion," she continued, showing the card to the others, tapping it on the edge of the table. "It was a total gag, but campus took us seriously, and put rules on the house. Such as, no females in the male rooms and vice versa, for any reason other than sticking in their head and saying 'you've got a phone call' or something of the like. So Jack and Molly and I would spend a lot of time sitting in the hall outside of my room playing cards." She tapped the card on the table again. "The ace of spades was a gag from a day we played war last summer…to make a long story short, I gave Jack one random card after he lost. It was this card, and he killed Molly, and took half my deck before I managed to win it back from him in a triple war. Since then, we'd play 'find the ace' and whoever found it got to boss the other two around si-…until someone else snagged the card from them." 

She smiled again and leaned forward, setting the card back on the top of the deck, looking up and meeting the warm eyes and knowing smile of Mr. Summers. 

"You're not…en_gaged_ to each other, are you," the old man said gently as she sat back in her seat. She blinked and looked at him strangely. Trunks laughed sheepishly beside her. 

"No, we aren't," he admitted. She looked at him, at the lopsided and quiet grin as he stared down at the table cloth. Something inside of her compelled her to pull her hand from her skirt and set it over his. He started at her touch, instinctively entwining his fingers into hers. "It's my mother's 'subtle' way of telling me she wants to see me married. Pan got caught in the crossfire." 

The older man laughed quietly and Pan rubbed the back of her neck with her hand, looking up at him almost guiltily. "Is it that obvious?" 

He smiled at them. "Well, n_o_o…except that in most occasions, the newly-engaged are oftentimes much happier, despite how exhausted they are." 

Pan and Trunks glanced at each other out of the corners of their eyes and both drew a breath of relief, and yet there was something guarded that only the older man seemed to catch. 

"We're really sorry about this, Mr. Summers," Pan started, discretely pulling her hand back from Trunks as she looked up to see Jack walking back towards them. "Um…do you think…" 

"I don't know," the old man replied quietly as Jack came up behind him. 

"Doubt it," Trunks whispered, watching her face fall a little. He leaned closer and pressed his lips against her earlobe, giving her a one armed squeeze once more. "We'll tell him, Panny, I promise you. I'll fix this, I promise." He pulled away and she smiled at him. "I promise."

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A/N: Yeah. Reading back, I relized I'd put two characters of juxtaposing genders into a FRAT house. Yeah. I needed to fix that before someone else pointed it out to me. And that thing about the war of the ace of spades? That happened. Pure chance. I extracted revenge on Jack for that one. Oh well, at least the Lloyd didn't beat me. 

-Panabelle ;P   
www.angelfire.com/ca7/cathrynsfault 


	87. Chapter 86: Purple Headed Dick-Wad

Disclaimer: A HAIR! I'M SHEDDING! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!! 

A/N: Dude, 3 chapters. Wow, I'm _making up_ for the _three months_ I didn't update. Yeesh, do me a favor and don't harrass me unless it's been like, four. ;P 

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Petrified Tears  
chapter 86

  
  


Her head found its way onto his shoulder, her fist curled into his shirt. He smiled down at her, black hair spilling over her shoulders, hiding her face from his gaze. Gently, he reached down, sweeping strands of midnight from sleeping eyes. 

She mumbled, shifting against his side, arms wrapping around him as best they could, her body curled with her knees propped up, her feet balancing precariously on the edge of her seat as she snuggled against the warmth that was her grandfather. 

He smiled, watching her interact with his father. 

The girl slept peacefully, her face nestled into the soft hollow of his father's shoulder, her tears drying on the old saiyan's shirt. Her cheeks were a little smudged, her jeans slightly torn and frayed, her shirt kind of muddy, her sneakers somewhat tattered. But she was still an angel to him-to all of them. 

If they ever lost her…even for a few days… 

He quickly shook his head, locks of black skittering across his forehead as he banished the thought. 

He didn't ever want to think about losing her. 

She was supposed to outlive him-he would do everything in his power to see to it. 

And he knew the others would as well. 

Quietly, he set down his book and entered the room, seeing the smudges on her peaceful face, the lost and lonely needing in her grip on his father's gi. Settling on the floor before them, he watched his father absently stroke the girl's hair, his attention focused on something past her face, something beyond all comprehension. 

"What happened?" 

The old saiyan blinked and turned his head, smiling down on his son. 

"Oh-I didn't hear you come home." 

He shrugged. "I was trying to be quiet, I didn't want to wake up Mom or Videl. I didn't realize anyone was up though." 

His father smiled, the dazzling family smile somewhat deluded by a kind of insight that both troubled and moved him. "Yeah…" 

"What happened?" he repeated gently, his gaze turning from his father to the child. 

"Huh? Oh…I don't know." The way he said it, oh so casually, oh so naturally…he knew his father knew. For a normally naïve man, he wasn't ignorant. And the girl told him everything. "I came down to get something to eat and saw her out on the roof. Went out and brought her in…she just started crying." 

That was all he needed to hear. 

There was only ever three reasons she went onto the roof: grades, friends, or daydreaming. 

She never cried over daydreams. 

Grades weren't coming out anytime soon. 

The only friends that ever drove her out onto the roof were Trunks, Bra, and Marron. 

Trunks would fly out to find her if it was one of the girls-the two would go to him for help if they couldn't go to Panny, and he'd find her to find out the other side of the story. 

Obviously, Trunks hadn't come to find anything out. 

Which meant that he didn't know-and that _he_ was the reason for her tears. 

He lay back onto the living room carpet, one leg propped up, the other stretched out, hands behind his head as he gazed at the ceiling fan that his brother had bought for Videl past Christmas. 

He'd protect Panny-_his_ little Panny-like any father would. 

Even from that purple headed dick-wad.

* * *

From his perch on the roof, he saw something glint in the moonlight, something that blended in well with the blackness of the valley. 

He scowled, rising to his feet as the limo drew closer. 

She was almost home, with her 'finance' and the boy who'd been as innocent as the girl in the whole undertaking being undertook for the 'sake' of his grandfather. 

Shoving hands into his pockets, he waited. 

It was time he told that purple headed dick-wad how he felt.

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A/N: It's not a dbz fic until Goku makes un appearance. He's made one. A little belated, maybe, but he's made one. I think I'll leave ya'll here. 

-Panabelle ;P   
www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers 


	88. Chapter 87: Resemblance

Disclaimer: *slouches on couch, eating box of cheezy poofs* Hell yeah! 

A/N: Or maybe I won't. Dude, you'd all _kill_ me if I actually did that. And are ya'll reviewing? You'd better be! ;P (j/k) 

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Petrified Tears  
chapter 87

  
  


Pan's head settled against his chest as her fingers gathered handfuls of shirt into loose fists. He blinked in surprise, glancing down at the girl whom he'd known been sleeping for quite some time, watching as she shifted, her feet balanced precariously on the edge of her seat, midnight's silk spilling elegantly over her shoulders, hiding her face from the others in the limo. Smiling, he lifted his hand, knocking away a lock with the back of his fingertips, smirking a little as she raised a hand to brush at the now-gone hair. 

"So you're really not…" 

Trunks looked up and across the limo to where the boy sat, his eyes almost pleading. He smiled. 

"No. We're not. Never were." He looked back down at the girl, reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ear, his hand refusing to listen to the commands of his mind, briefly cupping her face in his palm before he drew his hand away. The boy across from him slouched back into the seat, relief spreading over his features. He folded his hands over his stomach, his glasses clasped limply in his right hand. "It was all my mother's doing." 

"Why?" Jack asked, his tone bewildered almost to the point of incredulity. "I mean-" 

Trunks laughed and Pan nuzzled her face into his chest, drawing closer to him, her knees leaning over his lap. 

"Because she's had enough of waiting for me to get married…there's nothing she wouldn't want more than to be a grandmother, and she's embarrassed that my _little sister_ may be giving her her first grandbaby," he said quietly, looking up at the boy. He could see so much of Goten in the boy, and yet so much of himself… 

It was no wonder Pan had taken to him. So much like the two people she had spent most of her life growing up around… So innocent, so strong-spiritually-and yet still needing of guidance… 

Truth be told, Jack reminded Trunks more of Pan than anyone else. 

From the back of the limo, Mr. Summers cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the other two. 

"Well I can certainly see why she made arrangements for Miss Son here to be your fiancé in this bogus engagement." Trunks colored a little, ducking his eyes as the older man continued. "You're both very comfortable with each other. But I have to wonder why your mother is so insistent upon seeing you with a wife and children so soon." 

Trunks laughed, his mind noting the amused glint in Jack's eyes. 

"I hate to break this to you, Mr. Summers, but I'm older than I look." 

The old man raised an eyebrow. "You look to be in your early twenties, but I'd wager you're closer to 30." 

Trunks laughed again, shaking his head. "Try 40." 

The old man's eyes grew wide, his jaw dropped slightly. 

"He used to baby-sit Pankake," Jack spoke up, drawing the attention of the others. Trunks tightened his arm around the girl at the boy's name for her, the boy's grandfather grew skeptical. Jack remained oblivious. "Pops, he's almost 14 years older than her, and she's hardly one month older than I am." Suddenly aware of the suspicious gazes of the others, Jack glared at them both-a glare reminiscent of Vegeta, but directed more at the world than any particular individual, and not nearly pessimistic enough. "I spent 3 years living in the same house as her, and one year practically as her roommate thanks to the whores we _did_ room with." 

Trunks looked back down at Pan, forcing himself to relax, but unable to under the scrutiny of the older man. He looked back at him. 

"Well?" the man's eyes seemed to say. 

Trunks shrugged lightly, almost sheepishly. 

"I did. Our families are close and have always been close. Her grandfather and my mother were companions in the early days of their childhood. In the 50-odd years since, our families have only gotten closer, my mother growing close to Son Goku's oldest son, me to his younger, and all of us to Pan. My father is the most anti-social person you'll ever meet-yet even he can't help but stand up to protect the honor of the Sons." Here Trunks paused to laugh at the irony. "Almost as if the only one with any right to slander the Sons were himself; he may be rude and short tempered with them, but he means well in every respect. It's just the way my father is." 

He paused, gathering his thoughts. 

"I've never been more than friends with Pan-I may as well be a third son or a second brother in her family. A lot of Saturday nights in high school were spent watching this little brat, but she's nothing like my _own_ sister, who only ever wanted to play dress up with our mom's old make-up and clothing. Pan would actually _play_; hide and seek, tag…she was a real tomboy even 4 years ago. After a while it stopped being a Saturday night chore or job, and became a promise-one day of the week was hers. She made me keep that promise through _her_ high school years, up until the day she left for the States. She'd kidnap me from work if she had to, she was determined to keep me from becoming a recluse or a workaholic, said she wanted me to still be fun to have around when she got married so that she could dump _her_ children in my lap to watch once a week." His lip twitched into a smile as he looked down at her. "Hate to say it, but in the four years she was gone, I _did_ become everything she said I would if I didn't take time off every once in a while. This last week was my mother's revenge against her for kidnapping me back when I didn't have any qualms about calling her a kid. Shove Pan into the box with me to work off everything that had built up. And believe me, I'm carrying a workload that would drive 5 competent men insane." 

Jack's eyes glinted again; Trunks bitterly remembered how much Pan had trusted him with: '_ev_erything'. But something in his gut told him it had nothing to do with his saiyan heritage. 

"Just friends and nothing more?" Jack repeated slowly. 

Trunks nodded slowly in return, the old man falling out of existence as the two locked eyes in a type of battle. Jack smirked-a smirk that could terrify even Vegeta. Instinctively, every defense wall and mechanism that Trunks had slammed up and into place. 

"Then why did you kiss her when she came back?" 

Part of him wanted to lurch across the limo and beat the boy. Another part was tempted to raise his arm and blast the brat off the planet. The rest of him sat stiffly, weighing his words. 

He had played this little game with Pan last weekend out at the beach. 

He wasn't going to be cornered again. 

After a moment's pause, he spoke, words careful and measured. 

"We all did-we hadn't seen her in over four years." 

Jack's eyes glinted. "That's not what I'm talking about." 

He carefully kept his face blank. A face learned from decades of being Vegeta's son-a face that was so perfectly replicated his mother had often complained it was as genetic as Goku's smile. 

"Then what _are_ you talking about?" _Brat_. 

"I don't know when, she had to go before I could get anything out of her. But she called me earlier in the week. To 'talk'-which is something Pan just doesn't call to do. To plan something, yeah. To ask a question sure. But usually, to avoid something-or some_one_." The boy smirked again, his eyes guarded but still glinting, almost maliciously. "She wouldn't tell me what was wrong. Apparently, she was supposed to be working-running copies for you or something." 

Trunks snorted, remembering Pan's devotion to the copy machine. He smirked back, eyes just as guarded. "I sincerely _doubt_ that. She was worshipping that damned thing before the first day was out." 

Jack's eyes glinted in return. "Or something," he repeated, steal-blue eyes staring straight into cobalt blue. "I got it out of her-and then she hung up on me. But she told me you'd kissed her. 'It didn't mean anything', but that last bit was too hurried to be true. And she'd growled it, like she does when she doesn't want to be argued with." His eyes glinted. "So what's the story? Since I'm obviously not going to be getting it out _her_. Anytime soon, _if_ at all." 

Trunks scowled, grinding his molars. Before he could spit back a reply, Pan shifted against him, shivering in his arms, drawing nearer to the warmth of his body, huddling against him. He blinked, looking down at her; sighed. 

Why deny it? Summers had known it from the moment he'd first seen them interact. Jack obviously knew something he didn't, which terrified him. But the boy carried an air of Vegeta about him, an air of Bulma. Whatever he drew out of Trunks would stay where it was spoken. Pan would never know. No one else would ever know. 

Trunks sighed, letting his mask fall away, his face melting in confusion and a kind of pain. Easing gently away from the seat, shifting expertly in Pan's arms, not pulling away but not disturbing her either, he slipped his arms from his tux jacket, draping it about her shoulders and knocking hair from her eyes once more. 

"Well?" 

The boy's voice wasn't so vindictive this time. Again, Trunks was impressed with the resemblance between everyone he had ever known in this boy. He sighed again and looked out the window, wondering if he had time to explain. 

"It's a long story," he said quietly, not looking at Jack, Mr. Summers forgotten, instead looking over his shoulder out the window, his arms wrapped around Pan as she slept against him. 

"I just want to see her happy."

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A/N: I'm spoiling you. I am. What is this, four chapters? Mneh. I'm too good to you. ;P 

-Panabelle ;P   
www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers 


	89. Chapter 88: One Week

Disclaimer: MIDGET PORN! 

A/N: *makes chibi Ash doll dance around like a trained monkey (complete with fez!) singing "MIDGET PORN, MIDGET PORN!"* :D You can't say that without smiling. I have nothing against the little people, I just love to say that. Because it makes me smile! *cough*likereviews*cough* MIDGET PORN! MIDGET PORN! 

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Petrified Tears  
chapters 88

  
  


Trunks blinked, turning his head to look at the boy. His face was sincere, his eyes akin to what Trunks had felt in his own eyes earlier that night, Pan near to tears as he held her, promising to help her, to make everything better. 

The exact same look he had seen in his mother's eyes last weekend as he'd told _her_ what had happened. 

He sighed and looked down at Pan. She slept soundly, her hand curled in his shirt, one shoulder lifted, cupping her face as she leaned her head against his chest. Her innocence nearly blinded him, the memory of last Friday night sobering him. 

_Has it really only been seven days? Sweet Dende, it feels like it's been so much longer…_

With a sigh, he nodded. 

And started at the beginning.

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A/N: That, and I thought it was fitting for the insanely short chapter that you _had_ to know was coming eventually. MIDGET PORN! 

-Panabelle ;P  
www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers 


	90. Chapter 89: And then she came home

Disclaimer: MONKEY PORN! Er...*twitch* That one just doesn't work...*twitch twitch* 

A/N: Don't worry, this will make up for the insanely short chapter that you _had_ to have known was coming eventually. Oi! 

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Petrified Tears  
chapter 89

  
  


"She told me and my sister she was going to college in California before she'd even told her father or her uncle. Actually, she'd told my sister. I'd been in the hall, being the momma's boy that I am, 33, then, terrified to grow up, and living at home. I'd let Pan in a few hours before, and was looking to find her, ask if she wanted a ride to her house because I was heading there anyways to talk to Gohan-her father. My sister's door was open for once, and so I'd stepped into the door way with my hand raised to knock just in time to hear Pan say that she was going to college there…and didn't plan on coming home-even to visit-until she had her four year degree in her hand. I invited myself into the conversation before I could think about it. Pissed the hell out of my sister, but Pan hadn't seemed surprised to see me there. She's always had a knack for knowing where I was. Probably from being around me so much when she was little. 

"She said she didn't know who she was anymore, and that she needed to find herself. That she wasn't who she wanted to be, and she wanted to at least _know_ who she wanted to be before it was too late to look anymore. I didn't want to see her go anymore than my sister, but I didn't ask her to promise to come home during breaks, and I knew that she'd never ask any of us to visit. I fought her on it, made it clear I wanted her _here_, wanted my best friend around and not nearly half way around the globe, but that if she thought she needed to go, she had my blessings. But I made her promise me that she'd know herself when she came home, and that _I_ would still know her when she came home. 

"And so I watched her, the little tomboy I'd known for 18 years, climb onto a plane and fly out to the states to find herself. After she left, I drew in on myself. There was no one to rescue me from my job or from myself, the curses of always exaggerating situations or putting too much pressure on myself that I inherited from my parents. My other friends, an ex-girlfriend who I'd gotten back together with, and Goten (Pan's uncle and my only _childhood_ friend that had yet to seriously betray me) tried to bring me back around, but they were hurting from her leaving just as much as I was. It ended with me and Goten at war a few months after she'd left, and we're still not speaking. Marron-my girlfriend-and I called it off; it wasn't working. I was too preoccupied. 

"My sister had teased me about being in love with Panny. I let her think what she would; ever since she discovered 'boys' at age _six_ she's been determined to see me propose to Pan. Even more determined than my mother, which is saying a lot. In truth, I just wanted Pan to come home. I'd talk to her once a week-drop everything to be at home when she called so that I could talk to her for at least five minutes before my sister claimed all conversation for herself. I actually think that I used it subconsciously as yet an_other_ excuse not to move out from under my parents' roof. I missed her more than anything. Not because she wasn't around to remind me that there's a world outside of my office or because she's always got some scheme to do something, but just because she wasn't there. I'd grown so used to having her around that I'll admit I took her for granted. Eventually, my mother and _her_ mother, Videl, joined my sister in teasing me. Never when Gohan was around, we all know he'd slaughter me in an instant-and not just because she's shy of half my age. Like with my sister, I told them they were deluding themselves. 

"And then she came home." 

Trunks stopped abruptly, blinking, looking down at Pan, feeling her arms slide completely around him, feeling her hands tighten in his shirt, her face pressing into him. Her eyelids fluttered, as if in a dream, sleep forming in the corner of her eyes like tears. _Petrified tears cried over impossible dreams, impossible wishes. Dreams and wishes that you know can never come true. You can't cry them because you're not awake, and you don't know that you're crying. But they have to come out. So they become petrified, fossilized, and gather in your eyes, where they blind you from the hopelessness of reality so that you won't stop dreaming those dreams, or wishing those wishes._ He lifted a hand, wiping the corner of one of her eyes, her skin soft under his callused fingers. 

"And?" 

He blinked, lifting his head as if he had completely forgotten where he was and who he was talking to. For a moment, he was convinced he had. He felt his cheeks grow pink as he saw the wide-eyed and innocent eagerness in the boy's gaze. Trunks lowered his eyes back to Pan, sighed again. 

"You'll never know how I felt. She'd been awkward and 18 when she'd left. A complete tomboy, always ready to beat the crap out of anyone who opposed her, and more than able to do it. She'd once gone so far as to destroy the sawed off jeans she'd worn practically religiously as soon as capris came into style. When she'd left, she'd been wearing an old pair of Goten's jeans that she'd hemmed up, a tee shirt, and all the spikes and accessories that went with the punk movement. She was wearing the bandana she'd been wearing since she was five. But when she got off the plane…" 

He shook his head, his eyes still in shock over it all, even holding her like he was, even having seen her willing wear a dress and having _really seen_ her. 

"She got off wearing jeans tighter than my sister would dare to wear, a tank top that made it quite clear she'd grown breasts while she was gone, and the bandana wasn't there. It was more than obvious that she wasn't _Panny_ anymore…at least not the Panny she'd been when she'd left. I had to get back to work, but I told her that I was going to kidnap her for dinner the next night. Her grandmother had planned a feast in honor of her returning, but I had a dinner party to attend that I'd been trying to weasel my way out of for days, and that wasn't going to happen. She laughed and gave me a hug, told me that if I wasn't there to pick her up by 6, she'd come find me. And I wouldn't have put it past her. I was there at 5, to shoot the shit with Gohan, see if Goten and I could talk about _anything_. 

"Close to 6, she comes down stairs in a skirt. That about ended it right there. I couldn't find the Pan I had known in her anywhere. The Pan that had left had been a kid. A real pretty girl who could be beautiful if she cared to be, but who had nearly worn slacks to her senior prom, which she hadn't even gone to because she hadn't even wanted to go to begin with, and her date was arrested for attempted date rape two weeks before. But then she tied that old orange bandana around her head and I knew her again. I could see the brat I'd babysat and the girl who had been my saving grace for over a decade." 

Pan shifted in his arms and he sighed, lifting his hand from lap and rubbing his temples. 

"I'll admit. I'm a womanizer. I can't help it-I've had women throwing themselves at my feet since I was 18. Believe me, I've tried to stop myself, but all the girls I've ever gone out with were more concerned with getting into my bed, my pants, or my wallet than in actually getting to know me. We spent dinner catching up on what'd we'd missed with each other. I didn't know anything about her life while she was there-all I had ever had time to do was say hello and ask how she was doing, sometimes toss in a happy birthday or merry Christmas if that were the occasion, before my sister stole the phone. We'd gone to the beach afterwards-at her suggestion. And all through dinner, through all the conversation and knowing that it was Pan that was sitting in front me, that I was talking to and racing to the water, I forgot that I used to babysit her. That she'd been my best friend since Goten went off to discover girls after high school. All I could see was the beautiful woman she'd become. 

"We got to talking. About things a little more important than midnight movies involving pancakes and Barbies, more important than my father's attempt at sensitivity classes. About why she went over there. In a way, we actually got to talking about how much we missed each other, but we'd never come that far out and just say we did. I was born into too prideful a family, and she spent too much time _around_ my family. And somewhere, along the way, I crossed meanings. And I let myself get the better of me and I kissed her. Spent a good couple hours terrifying myself with what Gohan would do…_will_ do…once he finds out…knows _why_…in truth, I really don't know why I did." 

Jack stared at him, then smiled. 

"I knew she was lying through her teeth when she told me it didn't mean anything." 

Trunks shook his head. 

"No…she wasn't lying. From _her_ view, it doesn't. From mine…I don't know. I don't know if my sister has been right all these years, or if I'm really just lonely and pathetic." 

Jack shook his head, his eyes stern and angry. 

"She sounded pretty upset when she called-the way she said it made it seem as if it hadn't meant shit to _you_." 

"She was pissed at me because of how I acted afterwards. I treated her like dirt. I'd scared the crap out of myself, and I didn't know why I'd done it. I pushed her away like I had all of the other girls. Went so far as to humiliate and degrade her at her own welcome back party. Called her a kid after I'd treated her like an adult, and made it quite obvious that I didn't want any part of her. If it weren't for my mother throwing her into the office this last week, I'd probably still be acting like an ass." 

He fell silent. He didn't look at anyone-not at Jack, not at Mr. Summers, not at Pan. Just turned his head and looked back out the window at the scenery as they drove past. The white dome of her grandmother's home glinted in the moonlight, growing nearer as the limo slowed. 

A man stood on the slope of the white dome, a tall, dark smudge that Trunks knew well. 

Too well. 

He knew that stance too. 

This was what it came down to. 

On the outside, he was cool, calm, and collected. 

On the inside, he was praying.

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A/N: Fuck, at this rate, this thing is gonna be over 100 chapters. *shrugs* Oh well. But yeah. Dude, I answered another question--a lot of them actually. So now I can finally, outright and without vagueness, say **No! Trunks did _NOT_ rape Pan!** to all of those of you who kept asking me. 

But this is where I'm leaving you for now. Remember that reviews motivate me, but if you're gonna leave one, don't just type "write more" or something. Actually say _something_ (and anyone who reviews to actually say "something" and nothing more, gets bitchslapped with a dead trout) if you're going to review. I'll try and not make you wait 3 more months for another update this time. 

-Panabelle ;P  
www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers 


	91. Chapter 90: Ace of Spades

Disclaimer: _IT BURNS! IT BURNS!_

A/N: Haaaaaallelujah! I can write again! I have _**~t*i.m*e~**_ to write again! *does happy dance; swings Jack around by the arms; Jack curses and swears helplessly and rather colorfully* I've got three chapters for now, and hopefully more in the coming days. I still have 2 papers to write for finals, but that's it. And I'll be living on my trusy airmattress in the craft/computer room again all of next week, so that means unlimited comp time. (So long as the parental units don't find out, and I spend time with the old people.) But yeah. I've stalled y'all enough; here's chapter 90.

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Petrified Tears  
chapter 90

  
  


Carefully, he angled himself from the car, precious cargo tucked against his chest. His clients watched him curiously. 

"This is where I leave you," he told them, stooping before the door, peering inside, feeling the girl in his arms shift instinctively, curling an arm across his shoulder and behind his back, nuzzling her nose into the hollow of his neck. 

The old man watched him anxiously, as if suddenly worried for his well-being. The boy simply smiled, making his way out of the limo and standing before him, drawing up to his full height, only about 8 inches difference between them, rather than the foot that he had originally thought. 

Trunks watched, curious, as the boy reached into his pocket and withdrew the deck of cards, pulling the cards from their tattered and well-loved box, shuffling through them quickly, looking for a certain card. A moment later, Jack found the card he was looking for and pushed the others back into the box, careful to keep them from spilling out the bottom, and placed the deck back into his pocket. From his left leg pocket, he pulled an old ballpoint pen, leaning against the side of the limo to scribble something on the card. Trunks watched him, perplexed now, as the boy put the pen back into his pocket and turned back to him. 

"May I?" he asked, waving the card in gesture towards Pan. Trunks wasn't able to catch the words, but he was able to catch the card—the ace of spades. Trunks nodded slowly, and Jack took the girl from his arms, handling her carefully, pushing locks of midnight away from her face as she slept, his fingers brushing against the side of her face. 

He dropped her feet gently to the ground, supporting her against him, as he held the card between the fingers on one hand, slipping his other under Trunks jacket to fiddle with the mock-corset strings along her back. 

Deep blue eyes fluttered opened, smiled up at him with the simplicity of dreaming through the haze of sleep. He looked down at her, somewhere between drained and flushed, embarrassed and content, terrified that he'd wakened her, his chin tucked in as he looked into her eyes. But her eyes closed and she snuggled against him, wrapping her arms around his neck and subsiding into him with a sigh. 

Jack relaxed, an awkward smile on his face as he shifted her in his arms, cradling her more tenderly, careful not to disturb her again. He slipped the card into the back of her dress against the flesh of her back, quickly retying the strings, fumbling a little in embarrassment, but not disturbing her. 

He lifted her back into his arms and handed her back to Trunks, nodding to him and moving to step back into the limo. The half-saiyan's hand on his shoulder stopped him. Nothing needed to be said to get his point across. Jack turned back around, hesitating for a moment, eyes wary and looking away, before he spoke. 

"She'll know what it means." 

He disappeared into the darkness of the limo, closing the door behind him. Trunks took a step back, and the limo disappeared into the darkness of the surrounding woodlands, heading back towards the city. His throat immediately constricted as his clients left...there was no more stalling. He had to face this. Turning slowly, his eyes drifted towards the roof, and the half-saiyan who wanted him dead.

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A/N: *twilight zone* Oooooo, suspenseful! Remember now, McDonald's may have shitty fries, but the smiles are free. Kinda like how reviews are time-consuming for you, but free for me! ;P 

~Panabelle ;P  
www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers


	92. Chapter 91: Always Thought

Disclaimer: _HOLY MOTHER, IT BURNS! MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STOP! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH! IT BURNS IT BURNS!_

A/N: Oh, and thanks to everyone who reviewed last update; I don't think I have to whap any of you with a dead trout either. Just remember, don't just say "something" along the lines of "write more" or "that was good". On with the chapters! 

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Petrified Tears  
chapter 91

  
  


"I have to admit," he whispered, closing the door quietly behind the boy, the door squeaking quietly, welcoming them home, "That I always thought this would end differently." 

The boy blinked, shifting the girl in his arms and looking up at the half-saiyan before him, black eyes sitting almost solemnly in a placid and accepting face. 

"What do you mean?" 

The other half-saiyan turned and started up the stairs, motioning for the other to follow. They were quiet as they ascended; there was a pause and solemn black eyes turned down the hall to look at the women who stood there; one older with black eyes, arms wrapped comfortingly around one younger but middle aged, both terrified. Or rather, not so much terrified, as aware of the possibilities. 

For a moment the man with black eyes reflected on how fragile even the strongest women are; a glance back at the girl sleeping innocently and naïve in the boy's arms was all the confirmation he needed on the thought. Men were strong, they were the foundation of safety. But it was the women who were the skeleton of everything; the reasoning behind the safety; the knowledge of the consequences that could result…too many possible outcomes, too many terrible things that could happen. 

He stepped to the side and waited for the boy behind him to reach his side, promising himself that he'd never give either of those women, nor the little girl fast asleep in the arms of the boy, or any other woman he'd ever find or meet, reason to worry like that unless he absolutely had to. 

"Go—" 

He squeezed the boy's upper arm, shaking his head. The boy started at the gentle sign of friendship, shocked by it. In return, the other man lead him down the hall and opened the door to the girl's room, still slightly whirlwinded from her rush to get ready a few hours earlier. 

Outside on the roof, they could see the silhouette of the other man's brother. 

"Don't worry." 

He set the fallen angel onto the bed, laying her gently onto her back, disengaging needing fingers from his shirt collar, tucking his jacket tighter around her shoulders. He looked back at the other man. 

"I don't understand what you meant…different how?" 

Their voices were quiet as the other man met his eyes, black eyes probing gently into blue, blue eyes straining to find something in black. The silence lasted for a few minutes, solemn and quiet, no strain. No tension. Only regret. Only sadness. 

"I always thought it'd be me out there, not him."

*********************************  
A/N: Ok, so they're short. They're still updates. And it's been less than a month! Seriously! 

~Panabelle ;P  
www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers


	93. Chapter 92: Sleeping Beauty

Disclaimer: I love you Al, you're my secret lover! 

A/N: Do you guys have any clue of how hard it is to type with ½inch long acrylic nails? Lemme tell ya, it's not easy. I'm too good t'y'all. 

*********************************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 92

  
  


Midnight's ivory lay in moonlight, a black and indigo waterfall of silk. Golden tresses of darkness highlighted silver in the starlight, cascading over snowy cheeks blushing red in dreaming. 

He lowered himself to one knee beside her bed, sitting back on his heel, crossing his arms along the edge of the bed, laying his cheek onto his wrist, watching her sleep. 

Just watching her. 

She was gorgeous; no one could deny it—it was more than obvious that even though she berated herself every chance she got, she knew she was pretty. She didn't believe it, but she knew. Pretty eyes that shone like diamonds, like sapphires; pale skin like a china doll's, but not so pale to make her look fragile; hair that Midnight herself had spun by the light of the stars; a smile that could warm your heart no matter your mood, an energy about her that made you jealous—that almost made it hard to approach her, but impossible to resist to. 

Absolutely, undeniably, gorgeous. 

But the thing that made her all the prettier, was the fact that she didn't know. That she didn't believe. 

He smiled privately, sliding the backs of his fingers down her cheek, losing his fingertips in locks of darkness. 

Quietly, he stood, pulling away his fingers before he woke her. 

She'd wake soon enough…once the fighting started. 

He moved towards the door, his fingers reaching out to the knob that had ached to follow her father from the room, only to be stopped at the jamb. The knob glittered in the moonlight, arching across the worn brass to lead his eyes back and behind to where she slept; a specter in blue and black, a fallen angel of the night. 

He turned back, perching on the edge of her bed, shifting a little to lay his arm along the line of her back, leaning on his forearm, ear perched on his shoulder as he lifted his other hand, cupping her cheek gently, his thumb glissing across lips and skin. 

A sigh. 

It wasn't hers. 

"I promise you," he whispered, looking down into her sleeping face, moving his hand to stroke her cheek with the backs of his fingers. "I'll tell you everything. When this is over…I don't care what you'll say or anyone else for that matter. I want tell you…I need to tell you…I can't keep this inside any longer. You need to know how I feel…why I'm acting like I am…such an asshole when no one else is around." He sighed again, lowering his head and closing his eyes. "Why I've done practically nothing but lie to you since you got home." 

She didn't stir, though if she were to have opened her eyes, she would have seen nothing but his eyelids, flinching slightly as he fought with himself, purple locks spilling towards the ground, hiding most of his face from her view. But her eyes didn't open; they remained closed. 

Blue eyes gazed down on her, half-hoping to see black-blue eyes flutter open and look up at him, half-wishing she'd wake up. But she didn't; she still slept, lost in the world of dreams. 

_I'm such a hypocrite_, the little voice in his heart, the one that had told him earlier, told him to tell her, whispered. _I tell her that dreams don't lie in darkness, and yet here I am…dreaming in the dark about an angel of Midnight._

Swallowing thickly, his pride a sticky lump in his throat—far worse than tears, far worse than fear—he forced himself to sit up, but he hesitated. Swallowing again, he shifted slightly, leaning down, cupping her chin with the sides of his fingers, his thumb gracing her cheek, and kissed her gently on the lips. 

The young prince drew back slowly, sudden afraid he'd wakened her, but she slept peacefully, shifting and curling up on her side, drawing nearer to his warmth. He smiled, sad now, knowing that he had to leave. 

Placing one last kiss on her forehead, he was gone.

************************************  
A/N: That's it for this update; hopefully more within a week or so. Oh, and for those of you who were wondering about the disclaimers, yesterday was senior picnic...I fell asleep in the sun on my stomach; thank Cheez that I'm only crispy on my back and shoulders...and not on my face and chest like the rest of my graduation class. *does happy dance and counts down till Thursday* 

~Panabelle ;P  
www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers


	94. Chapter 93: Understanding

Disclaimer: I would just like to take a moment to say *pauses to clear throat* **IT'S MINE! IT'S ALL MINE! BWA HA HA HA HA! SUCKERS! YOU THOUGHT IT WAS SOMEONE ELSE'S, BUT IT'S _MINE_! MINE! ALL MINE!** *cough* Sorry. 

A/N: *shakes head* I need to make a habit out of _posting_, and not _not_ posting, don't I? Well, congradulations to everyone here, you're all the diehards. (Except for Kim, who's hard to kill. ;P *bows* thank you for making me get off my lazy ass!) I owe all of you really big, personal apologies, but since I don't have the time to do that (what with writing this, my job, and everything that _kept_ me from writing this), I'm just going to throw myself at the mercy of the court and hope my sentence is no heavier than finishing this damned thing! (Which is a burden, believe me! This story needs to end! It's drawn too far out! Eep!) 

But I live yet! And have found my way through the roadblock that had me held at a standstill! And have emerged victorious! Take that, evil road block! *demolishes road block with sledgehammer, sics Jack and his flamethrower on it* Bwa ha ha! Anyways, on with the belated chapters!

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Petrified Tears  
chapter 93

  
  


"Ha! Ha!" 

Gohan held his arms up in front of him in a blocking position. His feet braced his body as he leaned forward into the kicks, his shoulders moving to absorb the shock of impact. 

"Ha!" 

He ground his teeth in the moonlit darkness, wincing as the blows grew harder, tail wrapped tightly around his waist as he kept his back to the moon. 

"Ha! Ha!" 

His daughter stood in front of him, turning on one foot and turning back to her original stance, bringing up the other foot, turning halfway around, and slamming her foot into the cross section of his block. 

"Ha! Ha!" Her fervor faltered, and she lost her balance, falling over into her father. 

"Panny," Gohan started, helping his daughter to her feet, but she shook her head, moving back into her attack stance. 

Sighing, Gohan dropped back into his block. They'd been at this since Trunks had left; the moon was saying goodnight for another day and dawn was breaking in front of him. He wanted to know what was going on, but she'd said nothing. Not a word, saying only that he'd been overreacting and that she was restless beyond belief. 

He'd wanted to spar. But knew that he'd probably kill her if they did. She may have recently broken the barrier, but she still didn't know what she was capable of. _She_ wanted to spar. He knew she wasn't content to merely kick at his arms. But he also knew better to even consider it without a plentiful supply of the sensu beans that Korin had stopped growing. 

"Panny, what's going on? What's wrong?" he demanded, bracing himself for the barrage of kicks to come and from the need to kick back. "What's gotten to you?" 

She shook her head, her ki flickering angrily about her, eerie in the premature dawn, and brought up her foot, once again starting her assault of her father's forearms. 

"Something I'm perfectly capable of handling." 

Gohan's feet slipped, pushing his heals backwards through the hillside soil, leaving two gorges between his original position. There was already a five foot stretch of ground between where he stood now, and where he stood when they had started this training session. 

"I know that you can take care of yourself," he grunted in reply, more frustrated than furious. "I just want to-" 

The explosion of Pan's ki sent him backwards. He caught himself in midair and had very little time to drop back to the ground and get his arms up before her fist tried to connect with his face. 

"_Pan!_" 

"Daddy, why won't you let me take care of myself?!" 

Gohan dodged the foot flying towards his gut and grabbed the fist meant for his kidney. 

"When have I not let you take care of yourself?!" he demanded, leaning forward into his daughter's stalemate, powering up, letting their ki's rage around them like Hellfire. "Huh? Tell me, Panny, when have I _ever_ stepped in on one of your fights?" 

She growled, her hair very reminiscent of how Mirai Trunks's had been after his year in the Room of Spirit and Time. Her green eyes flashed as she tried to think of how to get out of this stalemate her father had locked her in. 

"Ever since I got back from college!" 

"I just want to know what's wrong!" he yelled over the crackling of their ki's, grinding his teeth, knowing how to achieve the upperhand in this stalemate but not about to take it. 

"Alright, _before_ I went to college, you didn't want me to-" 

"I let you go, didn't I?! I didn't push you coming home every summer, or every Christmas-I think I was pretty understanding with the fact that you spent 4 years away from home, without coming home, without letting me or your mother come visit. I would like to think that I have allowed a lot out of you! I think that requires a lot of trust-for me to hear about you getting hit by a car, and not hightailing it over and killing the guy who hit you! To know that you had friends from bad places, and not disapproving or thinking that you were making bad choices! I think I've been pretty understanding about the fact that you grew up without me a long time ago, Panny. I'm sorry for wanting to know what's wrong, so that I can still feel like I'm your father!" 

Pan stared at him, suddenly aware that he'd gone from needing-to-kill to needing-to-cry, before relaxing, backing away from the stalemate. 

He relaxed, powering down, watching as she stood there before him, head cocked, hair blond, eyes green. 

"Daddy?" 

"Panny, you've grown up without me…you're only 21, and still I've missed out on 5 years of your life, 5 years where I wasn't there to help you because you were somewhere else, or didn't need me to come help you. I'm sorry if I'm coming off as nosy, but I just want to know what's wrong, I want to know what happened that night with Trunks. I know that's where all of this started, and that's why I'll go beat it out of _him_ if I have to, even if you'd hate me for it." 

She blinked, unconsciously powering down. 

"Daddy-" 

"I can't stand seeing you like this, Panny," he whispered. "I saw you when you came home last Friday, I was awake. I know something happened, and I know that whatever that something was-is, it started with Trunks." 

She swallowed thickly, watching him with eyes gone from blood-lusty to almost black. "You knew?" 

He nodded his head defeated. "I knew something was wrong, Sweetie, I know something still is.. But I know you can take care of it…although I never expected you to take care of it the way you did Vegeta." 

She blushed, rubbing the back of her neck. 

"Please Panny, tell me." He looked up at her, his eyes tired and hurt. "Pan, at least tell me what's wrong. I promise I won't-" "Trunks kissed me and then blew me off…I thought I'd just had a crush on him, but I don't," she hurried out, her face blank, her eyes big. She started at her own words and backtracked frantically. "I-I mean, it wasn't anything serious at all…I was just…we were talking about Grandpa, and the last 4 years, and somewhere it's kind of like we forgot who we were with and things got really confused and he kissed me-or I kissed him, I can't remember-and then he went bastardous and I went childish and we both got pissed at each other and me at myself…" 

Gohan stared at her, shocked. He'd known Trunks had done something, but he'd have never guessed this. He would have thought something far worse, and he wouldn't expect Pan to be alleviating him of all blame and chalking the whole thing up to a misunderstanding. After a moment, he smiled, stepping forward and wrapping an arm around her, not about to let her see the broken welts and bruises on the other. 

Two little arms lifted and wrapped around his back, clinging to him. Her face lifted as she pressed her cheek into his chest, black sapphires glinting in the dying light. He smiled and lifted his other hand, knocking a hair from her eyes. 

"Daddy…" She sighed and turned the side of her face into his shirt, staring off into something beyond her line of vision. "Daddy…you know I've always liked him…that I used to think I loved him…but I mean…I know now he's never wanted me like that. That's what's bothering me. I don't…I don't even know if he really means that much to me, or if it's just old feelings. It's just hard to know I'll never be anything more than a kid in his eyes, that he-" 

Gohan curled his other arm around her and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, relieved. 

"It's alright, Panny, I understand," he whispered, not really sure if he meant it. 

"Daddy…don't hurt him, please?" she whispered, looking up into his eyes, tears glimmering in her eyes. He lifted a hand and brushed them away with the back of his knuckle. Curling his lips in an exhausted smile, he had nodded.

* * *

Gohan watched as Trunks slipped out of Pan's window, walking out to stand beside Goten on the roof. He had carried his little girl in after she'd told him, after she'd fallen asleep as they stood there and watched the sun rise, just as Trunks had carried her in just now. 

The boy had shed his jacket and shirt and shoes and socks, standing there in his pants and a muscle shirt, moonlight glinting off muscles and hair. Goten seemed to absorb all the light that hit him. 

It all made perfect sense to him now, as he watched the two lift silently off into the night towards the training fields, just as Dende had promised. He hadn't needed to stop being her father, just needed to look at it from a different point of view. 

He had looked at it from the old man's perspective, as a father who had already gone through this, who was willing to do anything to keep his daughter happy. The old man was right, she was older and he'd have to give her up someday, but she'd always need him. The talks and the hugs and the smiles weren't gone, just more rare, more precious. 

"Gohan…" 

He turned, watching as Videl came cautiously out to join him in the yard, grasping her robe around her, eyes wide and scared. He held out an arm and tucked her into it, kissing her forehead and holding her against him. 

"Who'd have ever thought a war would have be waged over our little girl," he joked quietly, watching as his brother and his old friend disappeared into the distance. 

"Anyone who knew you," she replied flattly. He looked down at her, seeing the seriousness in her eyes. "We all saw this coming Gohan, we all knew. But we always thought it'd be you…not Goten…why's he doing this, Gohan? Why's your brother…" 

Gohan covered her mouth gently, briefly, before lifting the hand and brushing her hair back away from her eyes. "Goten revealed something to me this morning…since my father died, Panny's been going to him. He knew every reason right down to every insane detail about why she wanted to go to college so far away. It's why he accompanied her over there, why he left to visit her every few months, whether or not she wanted him there at all." He sighed. "_Our_ father was more a quirky uncle to him, always dead or never there when my brother was growing up. But Goten never saw it that way. Dad was Dad, just the same. Goten still looked to me as a role model and for guidance, but Dad was Dad, Dad was there to protect and to listen. And as Panny's grown older, that's what's Goten's become to her, a second father. When she won't listen to me, she'll listen to him. And I don't mind it, because I can get my revenge on _him_ when _he_ finally has kids. Panny's _our_ little girl, I'm her father. But he's her uncle, slightly estranged and not always there, but who can always be counted on to protect and to listen, same as our father." 

Videl looked up at him, not sure she followed. 

"Honey, you're rambling. You're tired, you haven't slept in three days, you're not-" 

"I'm making sense in my own head, Videl, it's finding the right words to tell you." He paused for a moment, then looked up at the closed window of his little girl's room. "Goten sees himself as her guardian angel, especially now that Dad can't be that for any of us anymore. He'll always be there to protect her. She was so close to my father, and Goten is more like my father was than I could ever hope to be. It was almost like my father and brother knew what was coming, knew the repercussions to come, and they filled the same place in Panny's heart. Both swore to protect her, just as I did. The only way a father or grandfather or brother can, since you and I both know that's how Panny sees him." Videl nodded, her head resting against his shoulder. "But that's just the problem. You're right, we all saw this coming. But I'm probably the only one who knew that Trunks would kill himself for hurting her before he'd ever give me the opportunity to do it for him. He'll be good to her if they can ever get past their own defenses, as much as I hate to admit it." 

Troubled blue eyes lifted to meet his own eyes of onyx, eyes so much like his little girl's, but so much older, so scared, not quite so dark. 

"But then why's he going off like this? Gohan…" 

"I'll explain everything once we're inside…right now, we need to do everything in our power to keep Panny asleep, and make sure if she _does_ wake up, that she doesn't register their kis. She'll never forgive either of them or us if she were to realize what they're doing out there."

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A/N: Heh, yeah, it was Goten out there, kudos to everyone who figured that out! *hands out kudos bars* Again, I apologize _greatly_ for not updating for so long...but as I always do when I disapper for a month or two, I've returned with several chapters! *coughs* Currently just two, but I'll have more in a few days...I swear...working trained-monkey behind the cash register at Kfart allows for a lot of thinking time...*coughs* Anyways, just get to the next chapter already! -Panabelle ;P  
Shrine of the Saiyan Squirt


	95. Chapter 94: Double vision

Disclaimer: *sits and waits patiently for kfart to get Chibi Goten action figures so that Chibi Trunks won't have to be so lonely. (Goku's always training)* I can use my employee discount and pay 9 bucks rather than 10! 

A/N: As promised, the second chapter. 

Now remember class, smiles are the food of drive thrus...'specially for us veggieheads. Reviews make me smile. Review! 

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Petrified Tears  
chapter 94

  
  


Blue eyes faced black, two souls set hard in what they had come to do. They seemed children, standing there, facing each other awkwardly, seemingly unsure of what to do. Indeed it seemed to be a scene from the past, little boys standing inside a ring too large for them, both wearing hard-edged-smiles and determined eyes, both knowing they wanted to win, but unsure exactly of the prize. 

But something was off. This stand off was too serious to be that…maybe, reflections of the past, of what could have been. A boy with black hair, a man-child with black hair and black eyes, determined to protect all that matter to him against this hard-edged bastard, the alien prince, who stood only to take that away from him and claim it as his own. 

But no, that wasn't right either. These men were too old for that, but too young to know the true meaning. 

"You realize, of course, that you can't win," one called to the other with a smirk, crouching playfully, determined to make the best of this and not lose…not lose the battle, not lose _anything_. 

The other smiled, mirroring the first. "That's what you think, Trunks," he called back, an echo from long ago, two children in a huge arena. The arena had changed around them, but it still dwarfed them. There was no out-of-bounds, there were no spectators. 

This was no game, like it had once been, no matter how much they treated it like one. 

Trunks smirked, black eyes flashed back at him. 

"Then let's see what you're made of, Goten." vHad anyone been watching, they would have seen two sets of opponents as the two friends raced towards each other, forearm meeting forearm. They growled at each other, all pretensions of play falling away as they bared teeth and grimaced, bone grating against bone. 

One, a set of little boys, playing for nothing that meant anything, other than to say they were better. 

The other, a set of men, fighting for something worth protecting. 

Each other.

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A/N: So it's short, I'm sorry. The next one's gonna either be a doosie, or a long series of short chaps...trust me. 

Don't forget to review now...I NEED MOTIVATION, DAMMIT! THE LAST MONTH IS PROOF ENOUGH! ;P 

-Panabelle ;P  
Shrine of the Saiyan Squirt


	96. Chapter 95: Reasons

Disclaimer: scan! scan damn you! *swipes angrily over scanner* no! dammit! don't do this to me! *cries* 

A/N: For those of you who haven't heard, I'm now a proud member of the kfart family. *shrugs* Hey, it's a paycheck, and it's not *nearly* as bad as workin' fast food. 

But believe it or not, that's not the reason I haven't updated. I've actually had this chapter written out for a while, but I'm hesitant to post it. I warn you right now that it's not necessarily written in the same style as the rest of the fic, and that it might get to be more than a little confusing...but I'll let you read it before I say anything else on it. 

********************************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 95

  
  


"Care to explain?"

*

The stalemate broke apart fiercely, the two knocking each other back and away, sliding through the dirt. One snarled viciously, the other sneered back. Black eyes flashed, and then launched himself at the other, driving him over, into the dirt, only to have his momentum used against him as blue eyes bore into his, grabbing his shirt and pulling them down, kicking off at the last possible instant to pin black eyes beneath him, knuckles digging into his chest as he glared down, fighting more to survive than to kill.

*

"I've been thinking-" 

"I don't care what you've been thinking, Gohan!" Videl hissed as they sat on the sides of their daughter's bed. "I just want to know what's going on!" 

"Goten just wants to protect her."

*

Goten growled, kicking blue eyes squarely in the stomach, the older man stumbling back, doubled over, gasping for breath. Getting to his feet, the younger charged, steamrolling the older and driving him backwards before he could regain his vision. 

Determined to draw blood.

*

"But from Trunks? What could Trunks do? Gohan, they're best friends-" 

"Were. As close as they've always been and everything they've gone through, they hardly know each other anymore. The day Panny entered high school, was the day that she replaced Goten."

*

Trunks came quickly awake and grabbed Goten into a headlock, planting both heels into the ground and using the younger's momentum once again to fling him to the ground. "Why are we doing this?!" he cried, ducking as Goten came after him again. "Goten, I'm not fighting you! Not like this! At least tell me why!" he demanded again, leaning back to avoid another swing, throwing himself back into a handstand and kicking Goten in the face.

*

"Gohan, I know that," Videl whispered, shadows falling across her face as she looked out the window towards the sparring fields, fear in her eyes. "But why's he fighting Trunks? I don't…" 

Gohan shook his head.

*

"Because of how you treat her, you bastard!" 

Trunks hardly had enough time to push himself back towards his feet before Goten's foot connected with his own face, sending him tumbling backwards through the dust. 

"What?" 

"Don't give me that," Goten cried, pouncing and aiming to land with his elbow. Trunks rolled out of the way, his friend landing shoulder deep in the dust, scrambling to his feet. "We went through this already!" 

Trunks blinked then nodded, holding up his hands in defense as Goten came after him again, blocking every kick and punch he could, dodging what he couldn't. 

"Oh, yeah-I figured that out last night," he stammered, doing anything he could to get Goten to calm down. "You were right-I've been treating her like my little sister for years. I've seriously been trying to change that, but it's not easy when-" 

"Are you really that arrogant?!" Goten screamed, dropping to his hands and swinging around, planting both feet firmly in Trunks's chest. "A sister?! You'd be lucky if I said you treated her _female_ at all!"

*

"Trunks has been treating Pan like a little brother for the better part of a decade," Gohan whispered, looking away from the window to look down at his daughter. "Which hasn't been helping her any. You know just as well as I do that Pan's not as big a tomboy as she's always had us believe-you said so yourself this afternoon that the majority of the dresses you and my mother made or bought for her she begged you for." 

Videl nodded. "And you're saying that _that's_ the reason Goten feels compelled to protect her?" 

"No, that's only part of it."

*

Trunks labored onto his hands and knees, head spinning more from Goten's words than his blow. _I would give almost anything to be your sister for just one day…_

She'd _really meant_ what he'd _thought_ she'd meant! But had he really…could he have really been treating her as more of a tomboy than even the most hardcore tomboy deserved? 

"The fighting, the joking around. Flaunting every 'pretty girl' you could find. Yes. She was more of a boy to you. She came home in tears shortly before that whole blackstar thing, because _you'd_ been talking to _her_ like 'one of the guys', about _other women_. My _father_ wanted to kill you that day!" 

Trunks stared at the ground in utter shock.

*

"She drew back in on herself when my father left, convinced no one would accept her as she was because of how she'd been seen for years. Marron didn't know how to act around her-Trunks treated her one way, and because of the way their relationship was headed at the time and because _no one_ know how to tell him how he acted, Marron knew she couldn't just act a completely differently way without having to admit she couldn't talk to him. Bra'd given up talking Pan into going shopping, or about makeovers, and Bulma was too depressed to throw any sort of get together that would give Pan _any_ excuse to dress up. The rest of us were withdrawn into our own little bubbles, or were too _worried_ about her to _realize_ what had happened." 

Videl watched him, the severity in his voice only making it all too obvious that Goten's reasons were reason _not_ to have let those two go off on their own to fight. 

"You're telling me that Trunks is the reason Pan wanted to go to college so far away and not come home until she had to."

*

"_You_ wouldn't let her change, Trunks, _you_ refused to let her! She tried, really, she did, but-" 

Trunks shoved himself to his feet, whirling and slamming his fist into Goten's jaw, anything to shut him up. He didn't need fingers pointed at him! He didn't need to be told the entire reason the girl's life had been in a standstill was his fault! He couldn't have been the source of so much grief! 

Goten came back in a heart beat, punching Trunks in the jaw, a perfect mirror. The two turned back to each other and snarled. 

"You're too terrified by change to have let her! To have let _any_ of us!" His voice softened, but verged on insane. "You smothered her."

*

"She left to find herself. You and I both know that, it's why we let her go. It's why we didn't demand she come home for visits or surprise her with one of our own. And she's done just that. She knows who she is now, or at least, who she wants to be." 

Videl set her hand on her little girl's arm, watching as she slept. 

"But Trunks _hasn't_ been treating her like that. He's been a downright gentleman. Granted he was a complete _jerk_ at the welcome back party, but he's made up for it. He's well aware that she's a young woman and nothing he'd ever dare _think_ of as a brother." 

"_Goten_ also knows Trunks better than anyone alive, better than Bulma or even Pan. He knows how Trunks wines and dines, the exact tactics he uses. And while that's not what Trunks is doing or has been doing, he also knows Trunks's innermost fears. And he knows Trunks's demons. The boy is Vegeta's son, and Vegeta has got to be one of the most destructive forces on Earth in any sense of the meaning." 

Videl looked at her husband, steeling herself.

*

The blow landed hard, knocking him back several feet. 

"Alright! Fine! But that was _four years_ ago, Goten! However I treated her then, I've stopped! Yes, I was a bastard last week, I admit that. I can't look at my father and say I have nothing in me that doesn't thrive on manipulating others! Nor can I look at my mother and say the same thing! But I'm doing my best to make up for that!" 

Goten got back on his feet and glared. He didn't dare raise his power level for any reason. Trunks didn't either. 

"It's in the past, Goten, what does any of that have to do with _now_?"

*

"Trunks's greatest fear in the world is being alone."

*

"You're using her."

*

"Being alone?"

*

Trunks froze, the words striking him so deeply that he staggered; his eyes went dead; black; depthless. Goten glared at him. 

"Admit it, you're just feeding off her emotions. Feeding off of them because you can't stand to have no one care. It's been eating at you since she left, and it's _still_ eating at you. You want to settle down just as badly as your mother wants you to, even if you don't want to admit it. And you're feeding off her feelings for you."

*

"Friday night, while they were out, something happened between the two of them. She told me last night while we were outside. Bra had hit the nail on the head the next day when she spoke about Pan's feelings for Trunks, because Trunks had played on them. _I_ needed only one look to know, but I didn't know what he had done. _Goten_ apparently overheard Pan tell Bulma at the press conference Saturday, and was able to put two and two together." 

"What does any of this have to do with Trunks's fear of being alone?" 

"You saw him when he and his family came to pick us up. In retrospect, the boy probably thought he had lost her completely and forever. He was darker and more vindictive than even Vegeta at his worst. And yet, Monday night when he dropped her off? Still on edge, but back to normal. A normal he _hadn't_ been since before Pan had left for California."

*

"I wouldn't do that to her…" 

"You did." 

Trunks snarled. "Goten, I _couldn't_ do that to her!" 

Goten snarled back. "You _already have_." 

Trunks howled in rage and pounced towards his oldest friend. "You don't understand! _I couldn't do that to her!_"

*

"She's his closest friend." 

He shook his head again, turning and locking his eyes on his wife's. 

"He loves her." 

*

They stalemated, each snarling and growling, determined to overpower the other. Hands fisted together, feet braced against the ground, bodies taut with rage. 

"Then why the hell did you kiss her that night?" 

His eyes had gone as black as Goten's. 

"If you really need me to answer that question, you have no right to have ever called me blind."

*

"Why won't he say anything?" 

Gohan laughed quietly. "Did Vegeta ever tell Bulma? Bulma never even told _him_. She'd just been raised to get what she wanted and she took him for her own before he even realized what was going on. Lucky for her, he felt the same. Right before that whole Cell Games thing, Vegeta went to find Bulma and found her in the fields right outside of her house, where the gravity room had been for 2 years before he finally destroyed it beyond repair even by Bulma's definition. He broke down completely, blubbering and falling to his knees, holding her legs and telling her that he refused to return until the threat was gone. Even if it cost him his life. And that he wasn't just fighting for his son." 

"Bulma's told me about that." 

He nodded. 

"Nothing short of seduction could get Trunks to even admit he has feeling for Pan. As much as he's Bulma's son, he's more like Vegeta then is healthy."

*

They were getting nowhere like this. Trunks shifted his weight-even if Goten _did_ have half a foot on him, he could still match him-and leaned farther forward, twisting the younger's fingers as far back as he could. Goten cried out, before using the closing distance as a chance to headbutt the threat. 

The Son skull one the stalemate.

*

"This still doesn't explain _any_thing, Gohan!" 

He motioned for her to keep her voice down, then looked back at their daughter. With a sigh, he went on.

*

"This is about that night, isn't it," Trunks whispered, staring up at the sky, too exhausted to get up, too tired and too sore to take any more. "The last time we were out here." 

He received a snarl in return. 

"Goten! Enough of this! Just give me an answer! Anymore, and we'll kill each other! And even if _we_ don't, _Pan_ will! Even if our power levels have waked her yet, the bruises tomorrow will be more than enough." He pushed himself up onto his elbows, locking eyes with the younger halfling. "You said, that night. You said that I didn't know what any of it had been like for her. That's what this is about, isn't it?"

*

"Pan told Goten everything, that night that Trunks and I begged him to go talk to her. After my father had left and it became painfully obvious that something was wrong with her. She told him everything. Down to every little detail." 

"Everything about what?"

*

Goten sighed and dropped down next to him, stretching his legs out and leaning back on his hands, looking forward into Trunks's face. 

"Yeah," he admitted quietly, anger spent in the face of what Pan would do if-no, when-she found out. "Yeah, it is." 

Trunks sighed and let his back slump, his neck disappearing into his shoulders. 

"I admit that I probably should know what you're talking about, but I don't." 

Goten shook his head. "I can't expect you to know. She hid it pretty well." 

"Hid _what_ Goten, _what_ did she go through?" 

He hesitated, black eyes lifting to look skeptically into blue, fighting with himself. He looked sheepish with the knowledge that he had just tried to kill his best friend, and with the reality he was facing. 

"Goten…"

*

Gohan's eyes bore into his wife's. She started at the pain in them, the reality that she knew he had never wanted to face or even admit was a possibility. But despite all the pain, there within it, swam a spark of acceptance, a bit of hope.

*

"She loves you."

***********************************  
A/N: Was that confusing enough? 'cause I'd have no problem rewriting it so that it's a little more understandable if it is. 

The reason I feel I can get away with writing this fic with the split povs, is the way I've tried to put in different perspectives on everything so far throughout the story, and most of the last dozen or so chapters have been dealing with who wants Trunks dead--Gohan or Goten. Don't know if anyone else made that connection though. As much as I like this chapter, this is one of those times that I can't just say "this is the way I wanna do it and you can't make me change my mind", because I know what's going on...and I need to try to make _you all_ understand. Look for another chapter in a few days. 

-Panabelle ;P  
shrine of the saiyan squirt


	97. Chapter 96: Four years too long

Disclaimer: No time for a disclaimer today, I'm off to build a snowman! _Leeeeeeet's build a snowman, we can make him our best friend..._

A/N: For anyone who's wondering what that's about, you'd have to watch _Cannibal! The Musical!_ to figure it out. Early Matt Stone/Trey Parker stuff...you know, the guys behind South Park? Ok, anyways. You know, I _really_ wanted to post this _yesterday_...but ff wasn't letting anybody upload...not to mention, the last chapter I posted suddenly doesn't show...if you didn't get to read chapter 95: Reasons, I highly suggest _not_ reading any further before you do. Head over to my homepage [www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers] to read 95 there. Anyways, if this will even post, here's chapter 96. And to Cymberleah: I owe you a BIG ASS apology...mommy wasn't letting me on the computer sunday night and then I was having server problems monday. 

*************************************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 96

  
  


"'Bout time you woke up, Sleepyhead." 

Pan rubbed her eyes and rolled back, blinking blearily. Bra smiled down at her, reaching over and petting the top of her head. She was dressed casually, baggy jeans and an old shirt that Pan remembered loaning her years ago. 

"Happy birthday," Pan mumbled groggily with a smile, settling onto her back and leaning her cheek against her friend's thigh. Bra laughed, pushing blue hair out of her eyes before reaching down to play with ebony locks. "What time is it?" 

"Close to twelve. According to the limo driver, he dropped you and Trunks off here around 11, and that you were out cold." She smiled. "Never knew you to sleep more than 8 hours, Panny, let alone 14." 

Pan blushed. It was true, she'd slept the entire 2 hour drive from the city. 

And _then_ some. 

"Sorry…it's just been a really long week." 

Bra nodded. "I believe it. Haven't seen hide nor hair of my brother in 5 days. Even _he_ doesn't work that long unless he has too…and he had _you_ to help." Her blue eyes drifted away, and then she smirked. "Take that back. I did see him the other night…heh. You'll see what I mean when we get to my place. Remember, my birthday present is getting to doll you up." 

Pan laughed and sat up, pushing the blankets away to fold her legs, holding her ankles as her knees pulled the skirt tight across her lap. 

"Nah, that's not your present. Your present is me not putting up a fuss." 

Bra gave a small squeal and tackled her friend into a hug, rocking back and forth, laughing. Pan laughed as well, coming fully awake, and wrapping her arms around Bra as well, the two of them doing a little "Oh-my-Dende! Oh-my-Dende!" dance sitting down. 

There was a pause, before the two pushed themselves away and held the other at arms' length, both of them looking a little awkward. Bra took in Pan's dress, the sleep-smudged makeup and falling hair, the ribbon that had turned and was draped scarf-ishly over her shoulder; Pan took in the baggy jeans and the thrashed sneakers, the comfortably too-large tee shirt, the lack of make up and the thrown up hair. 

Slowly, the two backed away from each other and got up, putting the bed between them, eyeing each other worriedly, both wondering what the hell had happened to the other in the last four years.

***********************************  
A/N: Yeah, I know it's just a filler chapter, even if we all know that my fillers play part in the big picture, even if in just some tiny, miniscule way. I _do_ have the chapter after this one ready to post, but I wanna know what's up with ff before I post it...don't want to risk confusing all of you more than is necessary *halo*... Speaking of, yay! I was afraid all the pov jumps would confuse all of you, but apparently, I underestimated all of you! You'll all get cookies at the end of the fic. Which is drawing nearer and nearer every time I open the offical (223 page) document. Yes, PT is _that_ long...oi...and some of you wonder why I never work on the other stories I have, like _Tears of Blood_ or _Between Dreams_...*sigh*. Just don't have the time! 

-Panabelle ;P  
_All will be explained in time, and time is drawing to an end._


	98. Chapter 97: Dirty Laundry

Disclaimer: Amidst my khaki colored dreams, you'll find the blood red door...OPEN IT. 

A/N: Been a while, huh. This time, it's _not_ my fault. I swear. For those who haven't heard, I actually _had_ chapters to post not long after the last update. But my computer crashed. I lost _ev_erything. And have spent the last month trying to restore all my files. _Still_ recovering PT chapters from offline. So that's what the delay was all about. 

Anyhoo, started classes at the JC today; and because I have an _hour and 45 minutes_ between _each_ of my classes on Mondays and Wednesdays, I was able to "find" a little time to write a chapter. Anyways, here we go. _Hope_fully I'll be able to write more often in my "breaks" *grumble grumble grumble* *gnashing of teeth, gnashing of teeth* once school actually gets rolling. 

But that's enough from me. Go read the chapter already.

***********************************  
Petrified Tears  
Chapter 97

  
  


Buttoning her khakis, she waved her hand in front of her face, dispelling the steam as best she could, finally able to make out her hazy form in the fogged-over mirror. Bra had given her half an hour to bathe and get dressed before they left for her house, though Pan was sure she'd taken much longer than that. 

In truth, she was surprised no one had started banging on the door-she wouldn't have put it past Bra to walk into the bathroom and haul her naked and soapy ass over to Capsule Corps. 

But then, Bra _had_ just finished the payments on her convertible… 

Pan shook her head, stooping to pick up the mess of laundry on the floor where she'd fought her way out of the dress as the billows of steam from the hot shower had beckoned her. She was still tired, but she didn't know if it was because of exhaustion, or because of that dream she had had the night before. 

She shook her head as she gathered the dress in her arms, dispelling the thoughts. Anybody fighting to the death over little old her was nothing more than just a medieval nightmare. 

"Hmm? What's this?" 

Draping the dress across her thigh, she leaned forward a little to look at the slip of paper laying on the tile. Waving her hand again, she thought about opening the door or the window to suck some of the condensation from the tiny bathroom, but rejected the idea. It may have been hard to see through all the haze, but it was warm in here…it was cold out there. 

Reaching down to pick up the paper, she froze, teetering forward onto her knees, staring at it in something between wonder and terror. Fingers trembled as they hovered over the card, poised to pick it up, but unable to move. 

_What's wrong with me?_ she murmured to herself. _It's just a simple red and white Bicycle playing card. What's so big and scary about that? I mean, just a harmless little card that I've seen a million times-tattered on the edges, a little dogearred but not frayed, worn in but not broken. Loved just like that cards in-oh Dende…Jack…_

She snatched back her hand, tempted to scurry backwards away from the little card in fear, as if by turning it over she'd release some sort of monster that she couldn't destroy. Cradling her had against her chest as if she had been burned, she stared at the card, trying in vain to convince herself that she was freaking out over nothing-it was just one of _her_ cards that had found it's way into her laundry. 

The worn cotton of her tee shirt was smooth and familiar, but so was the card back-so what if it looked like any other card; that card could only have come out of Jack's deck to look as loved and worn and yet still glossy and smooth as it did. Everything felt alien. 

Everything felt wrong. 

She shivered, every word, every glance, the whole evening, the whole week, coming back to her, hitting her full force. The kiss, innocent and expected but cursed; the week in the box, hellish but fulfilling; the phone call, a promise to see Jack Sunday; the lie she'd told him-the lie her mother-in-law had- 

_No._

Bulma was _not_ her mother-in-law, that was all made up, just a gimmick that had backfired. 

She clenched her eyes shut, forcing herself to calm down. She was dramatizing everything-playing on plays based on lies. She was making things worse. Stressing over things that needed be stressed over. She was- 

"Pan? Pan, are you alright? You've been in there a while…" Her mother's voice slipped through the crack under the door, carrying that sense of clam that only mothers could possess, even in the worst of circumstances. A smile wormed its way into her voice, teasingly. "Panny…did you fall asleep? Do we need to get someone to come in and carry you to bed?" 

She was overreacting. 

Dropping her head and closing her eyes, she smiled, dropping her hands onto her knees, shaking her head at herself. Absently, she drew the card from the tiled floor, gathered her laundry in an arm. Standing, eyes still closed, she slid the card into her back pocket without looking at it. Reminded herself that this was _Jack_. He'd _un_der_stand_. 

With another smile, she opened the door and made her way back to her room.

***********************************  
A/N: Anyways, that's the chapter. I'm sorry if it seems choppy or out of sorts, I'm kinda putting off homework and needing to go crash and all right now. Anyways, yeah. That's the deal. So updates'll be slow, but I'll do my best. 

As soon as I can get onto the school's comps, I'll set to getting PT back up on my site; in the mean time, head over there and leave a note in my forum. _After_ you leave a review of course. ;P 

-Panabelle ;P  
www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers


	99. Chapter 98: Awkward Situations

Disclaimer: For today's show, I'd like to... *sways back and forth a little on her feet* *falls over with a _**kachunk**_* 

A/N: Word of advice kiddies, eat your veggies. Anemia ain't fun. 

Woo hoo! I'm back! I'm sorry for the hiatus. It wasn't like I really _wanted_ to take it. I was carrying 14 units plus 20 hours of work and my health/sanity all semester. But the semester ended yesterday, the hell that is Christmas in retail ends in less than a week, which takes a lot of stress off my shoulders. Which leaves only one conclusion: I HAVE TIME TO WRITE AGAIN!!! Wee!!! 

I know this has to be my longest disappearance yet...and I don't plan to try for a longer. I plan to finish this monster before the Spring semester starts on January 27. For several reasons: (1) I don't really care for DBZ anymore...at this rate, I'm just waiting for GT. (2) I have a boyfriend who I really care about and a lot of friends who I really miss hanging out with. And (3) I have other stories that are more important to me and that will need almost 3 years of their own. Not to mention that I've spent 2 years and 9 months on this damned thing already...not that I don't love it. But what I'm trying to say, is that I finally have an ending for this thing. Which means that this thing will end in a few chapters. 

Alright, I'm sure you're all tired of my blabbing already. Here's the first chapter of the weekend.

**************************************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 98

  
  


"Geez, you fall in or something?" 

Pan rolled her eyes and chucked the dress at the blob of blues lounging on her bed. As Bra squawked and struggled to free herself from the net of satin, Pan dumped the rest of her laundry into her hamper. 

"What was that for, huh?" 

"I should ask your mother the same thing," Pan grumbled to herself, smirking with a wink at her blue haired companion. Eyes so very familiar blinked, and then rolled towards the heavens. 

"Yeah…none of us are happy with Mom about that. Trunks stood there on the stairway twitching after she told him…it was rather hysterical," Bra added with a giggle, sitting up and draping the dress across her lap. "Mom thought she'd pulled Brother aside to talk to him in private; and while we couldn't hear what they were saying, she'd seemed to have forgotten that he'd put a hole in the wall last Saturday." 

There was an implied pause, as if Bra was trying to decide how to describe Trunks's latest freak-out. Turning a little and looking over her shoulder, Pan found her friend staring at the ceiling out of the corner of her eyes with her head cocked, doing just that. Locks of black silk sliding over her shoulder as she turned to settle along her spine, Pan felt a jolt of…something…in her chest. 

"'Hole'?" 

Bra blinked, looking back at her as if she'd just been informed that the Eiffel Tower would be the centerpiece on her birthday cake-Dende knew the cake would have to be big enough, what with one full Saiyan, four halves, and a quarter, plus the rest of the world, to feed. And it wasn't like the Briefs couldn't afford it. 

"Oh, yeah, I forgot. I never got a chance to tell you about that last weekend because…er…" She trailed off, a blush rising across her nose and over her cheeks, her skin going pale. For the first time, Pan saw her look honestly guilty, without reprimand or provocation. Aqua blue eyes drifted away towards anything that might prove to be distracting, teeth gnawed lightly at a full lower lip. A blush grew in the smaller girl's cheeks. 

"Yeah…" 

"…yeah." 

Pan heaved a sigh, grinding her teeth a little, letting pride fall. Swallowing thickly, she looked down at her shoes, then back up at her friend. 

"Bra, about what I said last weekend…I-" 

Without warning, Bra let out a squeal, flying off the bed and perching on the stool before the vanity, plucking a picture from the frame of the mirror. "Who's the hottie?" she cried, eyes sparkling and innocent. 

Pan stared at her in shock before she realized what picture it was-the one that Molly had taken of her and Jack the day before she'd come home. With a cry of her own, she dropped the box in her hands and dove across the room, knocking Bra to the ground and wrestling the picture from her hands. 

"Shit-think you're overreacting a little?" 

"Just give me the fucking picture!" 

The two struggled, Pan sitting firmly on Bra's chest, both with a foot firmly planted in the other's face, each clawing for the picture. It was a short fight, comical at best. 

And then the picture split down the middle.

***********************************************  
A/N: No more filler chapters. They were done with 2 chapters ago. From here on out, I'm going to start answering questions. Don't worry...I'm getting to the card soon. I'm getting to the party. I'm getting to the _point_. (*gasp* No! She can't be!) That's right...this thing's coming to a close! Wee! Which means I can go finish all those other fanfics and get on with my new stories that I don't even think I have posted here. 

Like I said before the chapter, this is only your first for the weekend. I'll have another up before Monday night. I'd do it now, but I have the hell that is retail in less than 8 hours and I have to go sleepy now. *waves* Night all! No more harrassing me about how long it's taking, please! ^.^ 

-Panabelle ;P  
_All will be answered in time, and time is coming to an end. (Really! I swear! See? See the giant asteroid coming straight for us? The end is near! It's near I tell you! Neeeeeeeeeeaaa-*gack*)_


	100. Chapter 99: Proof Positive

Disclaimer: *prays* please don't let the power go out, please don't let the power go out, please don't let the power go out... 

A/N: _Told_ you I'd have another chapter up by tonight...figured "do it now while I have the chance". Last time the power was out for over 12 hours. It sucked. But, as promised, here's 99. Oh, and everybody check out my a/n after the chapter. I've revived my contest/challenge one last time. 

********************************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 99

  
  


Pan stared down at the half of the picture in her hands; Jack's winking, squinting face smiled up at her, hand reaching off the picture to where she should have been. 

With a sigh, she dropped down into the window seat, propping up her knees and pushing the picture against her khakis. The card in her back pocket burned through to her skin. 

"Look, Pan…I'm sorry! But if you'd just been willing to let me look at the damned photo-" 

"I just don't want to see him added to your list of endangered species." 

"_What?!_" 

Pan ignored her, looking out into the sunshine. Behind her, Bra harrumphed and stormed around the room. They'd reached the Briefs's over an hour ago, after Pan gathered her junk into an angry armload and stormed out her window while Bra tried to change the subject to all the broken glass and the pile of Trunks's clothes sitting in a corner of her bedroom. Things had been tense since they'd arrived. 

"Knock knock," came a quiet voice at the open door, fingers tapping the wood. Pan didn't seem to register the presence of the intruder until a body blocked her sight of Bra's tantrum. Blinking, she looked up to find Trunks leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest, slightly behind her. Baggy black slacks, tattered, torn, dusty, bloody. A tank top that had probably once been white, but now was more dirty and black with blood and dirt to tell for sure. 

"Hey," he said quietly. His eyes seemed odd this morning-afternoon. Not so much tormented as they'd been before, but not playful. Contemplative, as if he didn't understand anything he'd ever thought he'd known. 

"Hey," she mumbled back, gripping the ripped photo lightly, looking back out the window. 

"That's the picture that was on your mirror last night, right?" She nodded. "What happened to it? Aren't you supposed to be somewhere in here?" he added, uncrossing his arms to wave his finger over the missing area of the picture. 

"Ask your sister about it." 

"Don't even go there!" 

Pan whipped her head around, more pissed just to be pissed now than pissed for any real reason. 

"Who ripped one of whose most precious pictures?!" 

In the middle of the room, Bra bristled, hair standing on end. "Fine! I'll give you another picture!" With that remark, she stormed across the room and into her closet. 

"Just a photo, Panno," Trunks said gently, moving to sit beside her. She shifted and he leaned back against her legs. "The guy's still alive. Or at least he was last night when the limo dropped me off." 

She sighed, smiling tightly and looking up at him, studying him. It was so odd to see him in the natural light of day with eyes that weren't blurry from lack of sleep. He'd bathed since she'd last seen him, but obviously hadn't changed. She started, stiffening a little, her spine straightening. Indigo blue eyes narrowed and she scrutinized him: the dark bruises on his arms and chest, the black mark on his forehead that his hair failed to hide. The dirt and dust on his clothing. The fact that the slacks were what remained of his tux pants, that the tank had probably been his undershirt the night before. 

The pile of jacket, shirt, socks, and shoes that had been sitting on her dresser when she'd woken up that morning. 

"Get into any fights lately?" she demanded flatly. He blinked, flinching as shoes and clothing and accessories came flying out of the closet followed by rants from his sister about how she'd give Pan a picture to cherish. 

"Goten and I had it out last night," he admitted lamely, blushing and looking down at his bare feet, rubbing the back of his head. 

She blinked and relaxed back against the wall, a corner of her mouth quirking up into a smile as she shifted and pushed the photo of Jack into her back pocket with the card. "What brought that on? Why last night?" 

He shrugged. "We were both there and we were both awake…and it had to be done. No time like the present." 

He wasn't sounding like himself, nor was he acting like it. This was a Trunks that existed outside of the box, society, and all known time and space. Pan wasn't sure if she was worried, intrigued, or suspicious. 

"You guys back on speaking terms?" was all she said. 

He looked over at her with a smile and nodded. "Nothing like trying to kill each other to remember you're friends." 

She laughed as he stood, reaching over to pat her shoulder. His hand veered away at the last second, gripping her fingers awkwardly before falling away. 

"I'll see you later tonight, alright Panno?" 

Confused, she nodded, her eyes shifting to Bra's emergence as he moved away. 

"Here," the blue hair birthday girl crowed triumphantly, shoving a Polaroid into Pan's hands, planting her fists on her hips and smirking. "I don't care. Marron was in ecstasy when I gave her of the other ones." 

Pan's eyes bugged out of her skull, growing wide, pupils mismatched sizes. Her face alternated between white and red, settling with a purplish-indigo hue with blood beneath. 

"Don't ask what I'm doing with that," Bra added as the Son began to tremble, smirking as she sensed her brother pause and turn in the doorway, looking back in curiosity. 

Pan squeaked, looking back and forth at her friend and the photo, pointing excitedly at the image, squirming her half of the "oh my Dende!" dance from earlier that morning. 

More than curious now, Trunks came back into the room, noticing another Polaroid in his sister's fist. Cocking his head, his face filled with blood as he made out the image, yanking it from his sister's fist and staring at it in shock. 

"_BRA?!_" 

His sister grinned, looking back at him. 

"Yes Brother?" 

"_What the hell is this!?_" he demanded, his face the color of boiled lobster as he shoved the picture in her face. She smirked. 

"That's you, Silly." 

"But-but-" 

The image of Trunks lying on his bedroom floor, hardly covered by a white terry cloth towel and barely decent, trembled as he shook. 

"So I forgot to knock the other night. I figured it was a perfect blackmail opportunity; not to mention Marron and Panny here would kill me if I didn't." 

Pan stared, shell-shocked and seemingly elated. Bra wouldn't have been able to say whose face was more hysterical if her life depended on it. 

"But you're my _sister_!" 

She shrugged. 

Pan looked back down at the photo in her hand, then at the one in Trunks's. 

"Hey! This one doesn't show _anything_! I want that one!" 

Trunks squawked as Pan tackled him, trying his best to get the first away from her while keeping the second out of her reach. Bra laughed hysterically as they tumbled around on the floor, both of them begging-one hyperactively and the other pathetically. 

When Pan shoved one down her shirt and into her bra before going after the other, leaving Trunks flabbergasted and white-faced, whimpering and desperate, Bra lost it completely and fell over onto the floor. 

********************************  
A/N: Expect the next chapter before Friday; if you don't see it by then, check my site [www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers] to find out wtf is going on. I'm usually pretty good about leaving updates on my existence over there. Anyways, about the challenge thing I was talking about. 

Tear Drops  
That's what I'm calling this one. Why? To celebrate the fact that this damned thing is finally (going to be) _done_ with, I'm putting on a little challenge thingie. Here's the jist of it: 

Pick your favorite PT scene. It can be anywhere in the story, anything you want. And then draw it out. It can be a simple little picture, or it can be as complex as you want it. Just keep in mind that the closest thing this story has to hentai is...well, it's this chapter. Which means nothing gratuitous, keep it clean for the kiddies that find my site--I cater to all age groups and the last thing I want is an irate mother emailing me telling me I'm the devil and angelfire shutting me down. 

There isn't a set deadline as of yet; I want to finish out the story before I tell you to turn in your pictures. As of right now, the deadline is Febuary 20th. Should I get behind schedule with my chapters, I'll extend the date. Prizes have yet to be determined; as of right now, the winner gets to have their picture as the title pic for PT on my site. I'll come up with something a little more substantial as things get nearer to February. (Can we tell Belle's coming up with this on the spur of the moment? ;P) If you're interested, email me or leave a note in your review. All questions should be directed to the forum on my site, to the "Tear Drops Challenge" thread. Leave them there and I'll answer them...I'm pretty good at checking that thing. 

So that's the challenge. Anybody up for it?

-Panabelle ;P


	101. Chapter 100: Comfortable Silence

Disclaimer: I have funny looking toes. Do you have funny looking toes? I bet you have funny looking toes. Toes are just funny looking period. 

A/N: Ok, so this is late. A million apologies, honest. But you have _no_ idea what I went through to get this chapter completely typed up...and if it makes you feel any better at all, I should be able to post one chapter a night for the next week and a half, provided I can get online. If I miss a night, that's two chapters. So no griping about how I was late. I'm plenty aware of that. 

Anyways, I hope you all had a very happy new year, and I'm sorry for Goten in this chapter. 

**************************************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 100

  
  


"Trunks?" 

"Hmm?" Not deigning to turn around, Trunks glared at his reflection in the mirror, yanking mercilessly at the ends of his dark blue tie. Why couldn't he tie it straight?! His fingers jerked it this way and that in aggravation as he gave half an ear to his friend. 

"Isn't Bra your _sis_ter?" 

The tie decided it had had enough and rebelled, tightening around Trunks's neck in revenge, creating a blue collar of death that refused to be treated like a retail gofer any longer. Exasperated, Trunks clawed at the thing, victoriously yanking it from his body and throwing the vile contraption at the ground in contempt. 

"That's what _I_ thought too." He shook his head, raking a hand back through lavender hair, messing it up-miraculously, it all fell perfectly back into place. A glimmer of defeat passed over his features and he sighed. "You know what she'll pass it off as-even though it's complete bullshit. She's just confused right now." 

"Trunks..." Goten warned. 

Trunks sighed in response and let it go. "I know, it's her choice. It's just...hard...to look out for my little sister now..." He shook his head, blue eyes closed, lilac bangs skittering across his face. Conversation steered itself back on course. "Now would be a good time for my parents to confess to the fact that one or both of us is adopted." 

Goten laughed, stretching out his legs and crossing them at the ankle, lounging comfortably on Trunks's bed as if it were a daily resting spot. Folding his hands behind his head as he leaned back against the wall, he watched as his newly-reinstated best bud poked experimentally at the tie with a sock-clad toe before stepping over it and unbuttoning the top button of his shirt. 

"Not going to happen and you know it. You look too much like the lovechild of both of them." Trunks laughed quietly at the irony of the statement as Goten continued. "Not to mention that Bra's a clone of Bulma, but that, as we've always said, she's Vegeta's little princess. _Lit_erally." 

Trunks shook his head again and dropped down onto the floor, legs spread apart, hands supporting his upper body as he leaned back on them. 

"I'd like to think there's a simple explanation behind what the hell she thought she was doing with that camera, but this is my _sis_ter. I don't care what she says: it's called 'blackmail'. Bluntly put, 'Take me shopping or I take these to Playgirl'." 

Goten laughed, the honesty of his laughter filling every corner of the room, making it feel full for the first time in a long time. Trunks ground his teeth at that realization, tugging at a few hairs that demanded a place before his eyes. The memory of last weekend, his mother holding him as if he were a child, as he told her everything that he had done, pushed itself into the forefront of his mind. The corner of his mouth quirked into a smile, reminding him he still had to thank her for what she had done, as cruel as it had been. 

"In all honesty," he said slowly, "I probably should have expected it from her-it's not unlike her or anything." Goten nodded in agreement, wiggling his toes in his sneakers, black eyes locked on them, as if he could see his socks and feet through the heavy canvas. 

"Our greatest nemesis...unfortunately, she also has the world's strongest (living) man as a personal bodyguard." 

Trunks sighed heavily, blue eyes staring at the ground between his knees, his gaze heavy. Goten lifted his own eyes a fraction, looking knowing at the heir of Vegeta. Something about his demeanor changed; he grew serious, solemn, all pretense of play falling away to reveal the keen intelligence that all Sons possess, the same intelligence that shows itself in every battle any of them will ever fight. 

"But that's not what's bothering you," he prodded quietly. 

Trunks let out a grumble and let go of his spine, crashing backwards onto the carpet with a silent _whump_, arms spread to either side of his body. Thankful that Goten had finally said it but reluctant to say anything himself, he let out another heave of exasperation before smearing his features around his face with the heals of both palms, propping up his knees. 

"It's this whole-Pan, it's…thing. This _Pan_ thing," he mumbled through the metamorphosis of his façade, voice muffled and strange, and on top of that, exhausted. But from physical or emotion exhaustion, Goten couldn't figure. "I don't know, Goten. It's like…her reaction to my sister's stunt wasn't exactly out of the blue, but it was extreme in the way that even _Bra_ didn't expect. Hell, I think she could have scared away my _fanclub_, and I have restraining orders against most of them." 

Goten blinked, his posture relaxed and concerned, yet his countenance remained serious. After the way things had ended earlier that morning, Trunks wasn't too surprised that Goten hadn't decided that the enemy was completely defeated yet. 

"That's the way she's always been," Goten started, watching him carefully. "She likes to play." 

At Trunks's raised eyebrow, he sighed as if it were completely obvious. 

"You both let down all your shields this last week. You played with her at Capsule Corps, so she'll play with you in her territory. I really don't think she wanted it because it was a soft-core porn pick of your incestuous sister, although she's changed so much that it wouldn't really surprise me," he added with a grin. Trunks groaned and dropped both arms to the ground, drawing a lopsided smile out of Goten. "It was keep-away, Trunks. You and I both know that has always been one of her favorite games. I doubt she'll ever be drooling over it like any of your stalkers." 

Trunks sighed, blue eyes staring through blurry amethyst lines across his vision at the sun-squares on his ceiling, created by the window. 

"It was so hard to talk to her though…I was walking by and there she was, just sitting in my sister's window and looking…well, she looked like she does whenever she puts on a brave face for everyone and tries to avoid thinking about something. Like all of last weekend. Fuck, like she did the day we found out she was leaving us. Her eyes were empty, her face was completely blank, and yet everything was so depressing about the way she was sitting there…" He shook his head, briefly closing his eyes. "It's like she wasn't really there." 

A cloud passed across the sun, turning the sun-squares hazy, as if they were a reflection of a rain puddle or a lake. 

"I ducked in to talk to her, just to say 'good morning', see if I could get her to smile…I don't like seeing her depressed, especially when I might have had something to do with it." He paused, then sighed. "But I could hardly even manage saying _that_ much. My mind went blank and my mouth went dry, as if I were back in high school, almost like the day I found out more than _girls_ wanted me, only a thousand times worse." 

Goten quirked a grin. Trunks fell silent again, waiting for his friend to say something. It had been a long time since they had sat in his room like this, trying to figure out girls or life in general. The silence was a comfortable one, not seeming to last even half the time it really did, and yet seeming to last the whole afternoon. The kind of silence that builds between old friends enjoying each other's company and presence, even when everything there has ever been to talk about was said years ago. When Goten finally spoke, it wasn't at all what Trunks had expected him to say. 

"You're a pansy when it comes to women. But I'm willing to bet a lot that you've never treated anyone half as well as you did her." 

Trunks smirked lightly at the reflection on his ceiling, quirking up a corner of his mouth. 

"I can only hope she figure me out on her own or with the help of my sister-I've tried a hundred times to say something and I can't bring myself to say anything." 

"But you know she feels the same way," Goten pointed out plainly. Trunks only shook his head, missing his friend's childish view of things. No matter how basic or simplistic, Goten could usually figure out exactly what the solution to a simple problem was, just like Goku often could. 

"It's harder than that…For some reason, knowing that she does only makes it harder. For one thing, the closer you are to someone, the more there is to risk. For another, that was years ago that she told you that…her feelings might have changed." 

"You're afraid that she's changed her heart, or knows too much about you to trust you like that, right? Or that she might reject you for fear of losing your friendship?" 

Trunks nodded mutely, watching the way the shadows moved across the ceiling. 

"She's meant more to me on more levels than anyone alive for over 21 years. I can't throw away that just because of something that might not have been more than a teenaged crush. You and I are both old enough to know that you can't trade in friendship like that for a relationship that might not work." 

The silence settled between them once more, disturbed only by Goten's soft voice. 

"But would you, if it meant you could hold her in your arms and feel the world slip away?" 

He nodded, folding his arms beneath his head, watching the clouds move away from the sun. "Of course I would," he mumbled quietly. "In a heartbeat."

***********************************  
A/N: 100 chapters? Holy shit, even _I_ find that hard to believe. Gagh, damn thing's too long. But like I said, it's all coming to a head. No more than a handful of chapters left. 

And remember: smiles feed the vegetarians who are forced to dine at McDonald's. Reviews feed the authors on ff.net who force themselves to finish their stories. 

-Panabelle ;P  
_All will be answered in time, and time is coming to an end._


	102. Chapter 101: Torn

Disclaimer: _No! You can't destroy Japan! It's just not right! Bond, what kind of good guy are you, don't just **stand** there!_

A/N: About the disclaimer...that was the jist of the feelings when a group of friends and I went to see Die Another Day a few weeks ago...that movie was no Bond movie...and it was a complete anime rip off. *shudders* 

*pouts* They tried to blow up Japan...*sniffs* 

Anyways, _no_, I did _not_ forget or get behind...for some reason, ff wouldn't let me upload last night...This is tonight's and last night's chapter. 

*****************************************************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 101

  
  


"You almost ready yet?" 

Drumming aqua blue fingernails on the arm of her la-z-boy, Bra fidgeted anxiously. She'd spent a good hour on Pan's hair and make up, doing her best to keep her best friend looking as natural as she usually did, being extra careful to keep the Pan on the outside and intermingle the beauty of the Pan on the inside-the loyal, innocent beauty that made Pan Pan. She'd shoved her behind a dressing screen just minutes ago, supplying nylons and slips as necessary. All that remained now was the dress, and then she could show off her best friend to the world-the _real_ best friend that few really ever got to see. 

"Almost," came the muffled reply, sounding very much as if Pan had her head lost in her shirt. Sure enough, the red tank came flying over the top of the screen a moment later, knocking well-worn khakis to the ground. "Hand me the dress, would you?" 

Bra nearly rocketed out of her chair, but moving like that in tight polyester pants was a big no-no-especially if the pants zipped up the back and one sits in a shag-corduroy chair. Any number of embarrassing things could happen. 

Grabbing the dress from the end of her bed, she drew her fingers across the embroidered dragon as he flew along the bottom hem; his body would undulate with the power of his wingless flight as Pan walked, his kingdom would be a blue to match his mistress's eyes. With a smile, she handed it over top the white screen. 

"Thanks Bra." 

She smiled and pulled the khakis from where they'd slumped onto the floor, turning to fold and set them with the rest of Pan's belongings. As she turned, however, she couldn't help but notice the red and white playing card spiraling lazily towards the floor. Crouching, she pulled it from the ground, turning it over curiously. 

"What's this? 'Super Monkey demands your presence at the corner of Baka and Onna'," she read aloud, khaki's draped over her arm as she walked to her vanity. 

"Hmm? What's what? What are you reading?" Pan's voice was slightly distorted and Bra could easily see her contorting her body to get at the zipper at the back of the dress. The image brought a quirky smile to her lips. 

"I don't know exactly," she replied, setting the card on the edge of the dresser top and folding the khakis, head turned to read the words written in blue ink once more. "It's a playing card that fell out of your pocket. Looks like the ace of-" 

A very distinct and very horrible sound from the other side of the screen confirmed the fact that _yes_, Pan _had_ been trying to zip up the back of her dress. The pants fell to the floor once more in a heap, Bra moving as fast as she could to the other side of the screen. Two sets of blue eyes met each other in a terrified staredown before the lighter pair came to its sense. 

"It can't be half as bad as it sounded," Bra started, slowly walking towards Pan as the other stood with both hands behind her back, torso at an awkward angle, backing into the corner nervously. "Someone here might be able to fix it…and even if they can't, the party doesn't start for another half hour. It can't-" 

Pan shook her head fervently, swallowing thickly and flinching as she backed into the wall. Bra suppressed a shiver and held her hands out towards her friend, palms forward in an offering of amenity. Reluctantly, Pan gulped and turned around; wincing at the sharp intake of air through her friend's teeth. Bra's aqua blue eyes widened in something between horror and incredulity as the damage came into view: somehow, Pan had managed an eight inch rip, right along the zipper. 

When she neglected to say anything, Pan turned back around, slowly, like a child who fears a spanking, tightly hugging her arms and the top of the dress to her chest, eyes wide and slightly fearful. 

"How bad is it?" 

Bra blinked and forced herself to close her jaw, but more importantly, to breathe. With a tight cough, she shook her head, making a mental note to destroy the reputation of Tamako for her shitty merchandise. It wasn't necessarily the money, she had more than plenty of that. No…this had meant a lot to her. Raising her gaze to the indigo-midnight eyes of her companion, she croaked out a response. 

"We need ChiChi."

* * *

"I'm telling you ChiChi, it's a clean rip…don't tell me it's bullshit. She did it." 

Bra sighed and shook her head, heal of one hand pressed firmly against her forehead as she paced the length of the room, phone pressed to one ear. Pan sat on the edge of the bed, delicately tugging at the zipper while holding the front of the dress in her teeth to keep herself decent. Bra's vehement refusal to help her was unsettling, but Pan figured she was focusing her attentions on not killing someone-be it her or the seamstress, she wasn't sure she wanted to find out. 

"I don't know what to tell you, ChiChi, it's perfectly clean, no frays or anything, right along the zipper seam as if no one had sewn it yet." From the look on her friend's face, her grandmother was considering the situation; a moment later, Bra missed a step and stumbled, her face several different colors. Pan sniggered quietly; her grandmother was blunt and moody as it was, but menopause was only making her a loose cannon. 

"Shitty seamstress?! _ChiChi!_ …" Bra breathed a sigh of relief, "You seriously think you can fix it?" She turned and beamed back at Pan with triumph before a muscle under her eye twitched and she turned abruptly away. Pan blinked in confusion-what the hell was going on here? What had gotten into her? Pan had assumed she'd be laughing her ass off at the irony of it all or trying to kill something. Looking like a terrified child, she'd assumed not. Dende that look was familiar… 

Fidgeting a little to get a better grip on the zipper, her fingers slipping once or twice before she could get a good grasp on it, Pan leaned a little farther forward, listening to Bra. 

"No…she actually didn't destroy it this time…and not at all on purpose or anything; this dress thing was actually her idea." 

Purchase found, she tugged, and was rewarded with that terrible ripping sound from before…only now it sounded like the dress was screaming in agony. 

Bra whirled and Pan sat up instantaneously, grinning around the fabric clenched in her teeth, pushing her knees together and grabbing a fistful of comforter beside her as she scratched the nape of her neck through her hair. 

Bra sighed and turned away, rubbing at her eyes. "Scratch that…she just obliterated the damn thing." 

Pan watched her, swiftly struck with the face that normally accompanied Bra's current actions. It had been bothering her since Bra had gotten on the phone about ten minutes ago, but now it was all too obvious. Her deflated stance, the defeated mien in her eyes, the slump of her shoulders, the way she rubbed her forehead and temples…but it was the way Bra's blue eyes refused to light on anything longer than they needed to that made it all clear. 

Their personalities would never match and could never be mistaken for the other's, but at that moment, Bra very much resembled her brother. If Pan didn't know better, she'd say she was in a room with Trunks. If Trunks's hair were bluer, longer, and curlier, she wouldn't dispute it. 

"Don't worry too much abou…you have another dress? Um…alright…ok…I'll send Goten over to get you right now…Bye ChiChi. And thanks." 

Bra hung up and set the phone on the dresser beside her door, looking back at Pan. 

"I'll be right back. Just…just grab a tee shirt out of my closet for right now or something." Without another word, Bra turned and slunk silently out of the room, quite loud in her black and blue plaid pants and the small black vest she claimed was a shirt. 

Completely baffled, with a hundred ways to explain her friend but not willing to use any of them, Pam squirmed her way out of the remains of the dress and snagged her bra from the top of the dressing screen before moving to the closet and pawing through the clothes, settling on an oversized red tank, watching in wonder as the hem settled a few inches above her knees. Tugging absently at the collar, she shook her head. 

She felt guilty as all hell, but she wasn't about to tell Bra how she'd managed to ruin her welcome-home gift. Seeing her khakis on the ground where Bra had dumped them, Pan knelt and picked them up, folding them slowly and setting them on the vanity. Her eyes landed on the back of the red and white playing card, and she picked it up. She'd completely forgotten about it, and when Bra had started to say 'ace of spades', the entirety of the last week had rushed back at her, leaving her unable to do anything but jerk to attention. 

Turning the card over, she again read what Jack had written. 

"'Super Monkey demands your presence at Baka and Onna.'" 

"I was going to ask you about that…" Pan turned, seeing her blue haired companion standing in the doorway, twirling a ringlet around her fingers. 

"You ok, B?" 

She waved it off with a pass of her hand and a shake of her head, moving into the room where she dropped into her la-z-boy, dangling her legs over an arm. 

"First tell me what the hell that means." 

Pan chuckled quietly and dropped down onto the window sill, pushing her feet up against the opposite wall and hugging her thighs, the card resting on her knees. "I don't know how the hell I got it, but it's a message system that Jack, another friend, and I used to use back in California. Jack has this thing about playing cards, so he always has a deck on him. Because he's such a moody bastard, Molly-my friend-and I decided to turn the deck into a way to read him. Basically, each suit has a meaning, and aces are usually used in cases of immediate attention." 

She paused and lifted the card, showing Bra the suit. 

"Spades deal with personal problems. The ace of spades is the 'I own your ass/you owe me big time" card…it's a long story I really don't want to get into. In essence, it all boils down to the fact that I haven't really been telling him the truth the few times we've talked since I left, and he's had enough…at least, that's what I _think_ he means." 

Bra nodded, but still looked incredulous. 

"But '_Super Monkey_ demands your presence at the corner of _Baka_ and _Onna_'? Pan, the guy's calling you a stupid bitch." 

Pan shrugged and set the card back on her knees. 

"He isn't fluent and he's not your father…plus I suppose he has every right… Anyways, it's just his way of saying he still wants to meet me tomorrow morning like we'd planned." 

She shifted under Bra's intense and skeptical gaze, watching out of the corner of her eyes as she nodded with a shrug. Somehow, Pan got the impression she knew about what had happened the night before, but didn't press. They fell into silent contemplation, Pan wondering about Bra, and Bra trying to regain her composure. Below, out on the lawn, people scurried; the sun was dipping towards the horizon, painting the sky all shades of purple and blue and pink. Scanning those below, Pan caught her uncle pulling a beer out of a cooler beneath a table, her father talking to Bulma nearby. Her uncle joined Trunks near Vegeta, the older half-saiyan fidgeting as Goten said something. 

"Pan…about Jack…what is he?" 

Pan blinked, pulling her gaze from the scene outside to meet the blue eyes of her companion. "Huh?" 

"I mean, what is he to you? Seriously." 

Pan shrugged again. "Nothing really, just a really good friend." Bra raised an eyebrow, a silent allusion to the fit over the photograph earlier. Pan sighed. "I'm serious! He's just a _really_ good _friend_. It's just different between me and him and me and you because he's not family." At the unconvinced look on Bra's face, Pan struggled. "I mean, well, I'm close to him in a way I could never be close to you or Trunks or Marron, because I've known the three of you all of my life. I only met him a few years ago…how do I explain this?" Swinging her legs to the ground and gripping the edge of the sill, she stood and paced, clapping the card lightly between her palms. 

"I mean…ok, you and I. We've known each other for forever, right? We know practically everything about each other." 

"Doubtful," Bra muttered, but blushed and waved her hand as Pan hesitated. 

"Um, ok…what I mean is there isn't much to wonder about between us. We know each other's families inside and out. We know each other's quirks, the way we both think-in certain situations, and there aren't really any stories from either of our childhoods that neither of us doesn't know. That sort of thing, right? But with Jack, it's not like that because we _haven't_ known each other _half_ that long. We had to do that whole get-to-know-each-other thing and trust the other enough to talk about our respective lives and not embellish them." 

Bra quirked an eyebrow, and Pan shook her head, wandering towards the dresser. 

"I don't know how to explain it! I mean…You're family to me. Your brother's family to me. Jack _isn't_. It's just an entirely different repertoire between me and him then me and Trunks, differently loyalties with Jack then with us, you know?" As Bra continued to look skeptical, she gave up. "It's just one of those things you either _do_ get, or _don't_ get. I can't find the words to describe it…sorry Bra." 

Bra smiled and shrugged lightly, watching her as she looked at the photos on the dresser. 

"I'm sorry too, Pan. I'm just…" 

"Is this going to be the part where you tell me what's bothering you?" Pan interjected. All she received was a flat stare, so she grinned outright and turned back to the photographs. 

"I'm just finally starting to realize that you were serious last week; your feelings for my brother really _have_ faded into oblivion." 

Pan smiled half heartedly. "As much as I hate to admit it, I was just upset last week." 

"About that 'something' you still haven't told me about." 

"And that I never will," Pan confirmed, her gaze lingering on certain photographs: 

The two of them at graduation, skinny legs sticking out from the bottom of closed gowns, caps at rakish angles and their arms around each other, acting cute and childish even though they were officially adults. 

Goten and Trunks pretending to tango across the living room together on a night that had been especially hard on Bra, the two boys caught in mid-dip, Goten throwing his head towards the ground and kicking his leg into the air as they stood on the couch, Trunks with a face so red with contained laughter his head seemed about to explode. Pan smiled and lifted the frame, recalling the way she had sprinted across the house to snag a camera and return just in time to take that picture; about ten seconds before Trunks dropped her uncle if she remembered right. 

Setting down the frame, her eyes drifted to a picture that had been taken when she and Bra were sixteen, Goten carrying Bra, Pan carrying Trunks, Marron falling over in hysterical laughter in the background. Even now the expression of horror on Trunks's face was priceless. 

"I still like him, Bra, against all better judgment. To tell the truth, he's done a pretty decent job of endearing himself to me over the last week." 

A bright smile split Bra's face, her eyes lighting with that same spark of mischief that had dared Pan to head into space eight years ago, even without Bra saying a word. 

Pan glared. 

"If you even think of setting me up with your brother, I'll kill you here and now." 

Bra grinned and shook her head, blue ringlets bouncing around her head. 

"No…I was just afraid that you'd ripped the dress on purpose. It's not like you haven't done it before." 

Pan shook her head with a light and assuring smile. "No, I promised I'd be your doll for your birthday. And I must say, that's a shitty excuse for the way you were acting on the phone just now." 

Her companion paled slightly; Pan was amazed at how easy it was to manipulate Bra once she knew how to read Trunks…even one week ago she'd thought Bra was completely in control of all manipulating to be done. 

It was almost creepy the way the two resembled each other. 

"Let's leave it as both of us have changed drastically since I left, Bra," Pan continued. "I'd have worn a shirt with it, but _that_'s something _I_ would have worn, and _you'd_ be the one in the dress," she added, pointing at the black vest and plaid pants. "And I know something's bothering you. So spill." 

Bra sighed and tugged at another shoulder length ringlet. "Alright, so I play for both teams now-forgive me for not trying to make you feel uncomfortable." 

Pan fell over with a squawk as Bra's words, coupled with her actions, defined themselves. Bra ground her teeth with a wince and a bitter laugh. "Funny. _You_ get me when both of our families and everyone else needed it drawn out in crayon for them…Krillin _still_ doesn't understand. He's locked Marron away from the world, as if I'll reach her through some cosmic link and 'corrupt' _her_, too." 

Pan picked herself up guiltily; she hadn't meant to, but the shock of Bra no longer chasing men-the very act that had defined her throughout high school-had been greater than she'd have ever expected. 

"I've been living in California, Bra…there are more…well…things are pretty liberal over there." She shifted awkwardly, not quite sure what to think quite yet. Bra looked just as uncomfortable, if a little more relaxed now than she had before. She relaxed back into her slump between the chair arms, legs kicking the air on one side, ringlets swaying towards the ground on the other. "So wait…are you…" 

"I honestly couldn't tell you," Bra finished with a shrug. "Not really sure where I stand quite yet…it's a little hard when Mom started wailing about how she's never going to be a grandmother when I told her and Daddy disowned me for a few months. Trunks is the only one not giving me a hard time about it, but I know he doesn't believe me…sometimes I can't help but think that he knows me better than I know myself, but I just can't trust that thought right now." 

"So have you-" 

"Dated girls?" she put in bluntly. Pan nodded dumbly. "Yeah. Nothing re_mote_ly serious…I'm still a little queasy about the thought to tell the truth, but I'm just as queasy around guys right now, so I really don't know anymore. I'm still getting used to this myself. But it's…guys just don't _do_ anything for me anymore. Sure, there are a couple of great guys out there, but my mind wanders and I have an easier time getting close to and staying in the moment with my girlfriends. I guess I just burned myself out on guys when we were younger, or else I've come to terms with the fact that all the decent guys see me either as unreachable, unattainable, or a complete slut. I guess I just haven't met that guy that makes my pulse race and my heart do that roller-coaster thing. Hell, one that can hold my attention. Haven't found a girl who does that for me yet either, but at least they keep me in the now, and I haven't been looking long in that arena anyways." 

Pan smiled empathetically. 

"Your Mr.-or Ms.-Everything?" 

"Define 'everything'." 

"That one person who makes your eyes light up and makes the world feel a little more friendly?" She paused as Bra nodded sadly, turning her head to meet her eyes. Pan's tone turned soft, dreamy even but not quite; there was a hint of finality in her voice that made it clear she knew the difference between dreams and reality. "That one person who can make you laugh on the best of days and the worst of days, who makes you happy just to be around them…that one soul who makes the dark seem safe and the rain feel like magic, whose eyes speak straight to your soul and who seems to have a special smile, just for you. That person who makes your chest flutter and your heart swoon with even the slightest brush of fingers, makes your heart race at the thought of his name and your insides shiver whenever he looks at you. Whose scent smells like heaven? That one person you could love like no other…if only they would let you?" 

Bra sat up slowly and nodded solemnly. "You sound like you've found your Mr. Everything." 

Pan nodded, looking down at the card in her hand before moving slowly back towards the vanity. 

"Jack's him, isn't he?" 

Pan laughed silently, shaking her head as she reached the vanity, pushing the card into a pocket on her khakis and pulling out the torn picture of Jack. She walked back to Bra and handed it to her, motioning for her to turn it over. Taped to the other side was a picture that Bra hadn't noticed earlier. It wasn't really recent, but in a way, it was. She recognized the picture as one that had been taken right before Pan had left, when the two of them, Goten, Trunks, and Marron had gone out to the beach to watch the sunset. What should have been there was her brother and Pan; he was supposed to be holding her around the waist as he said his real goodbye, but all that was there was Pan, staring forlorn and dejectedly out at the sea. 

"He's your brother. These last few days." 

*****************************************************  
A/N: Anyways, here's your really long 2-chapters-combined-into-1 update. 

Oh yeah...anybody interested in that challenge? (see the end of chapter 99...I'm too zonked to link my forum - WHICH NO ONE USES!) 

-Panabelle ;P  
_All will be answered in time and time is coming to an end._ Literally! *ducks as meteors shower around her* 


	103. Chapter 102: Dragon

Disclaimer: *clutches at chest with a tight fist, pawing at the air with the other, eyes wide...gives one last gasp, a shudder, and falls over* 

A/N: o.O Excel Saga...not wise to watch while feeling sane. Fruits Basket, on the other hand, needs to be bought. 

Yeeeah...ok. Thank you to all of you have reviewed lately. A few things I'd just like to say to a few of you in response. To jterra, Two Weeks Notice is absolutely adorable! And hearing you compare PT to it just makes me feel all warm and fuzzy. And Pia...I look forward to your reviews; you always manage to say something that I can really take to heart. And you'd be surprised how much I _don't_ premeditate my chapters. Of all the chapters I've premeditated...there is an _image_ in _one_. And you haven't even seen it yet. I'm more or less a channel between the story and the screen. And everyone else, I really appreciate that you're accepting the fact that I'm pretty inconsistant about posting...even if that knowledge makes me feel pretty shitty. 

Don't worry. Barring disaster, I won't be disappearing for more than a day or two until school starts back up on the 27th. And I hope to be finished by then...if that says anything. 

**************************************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 102

  
  


"I thought you'd gotten past this," ChiChi said demurely, holding up the dress, displaying the frayed, torn, and thready back. "Although I must say, you've never done a better job of annihilating a dress." 

Pan shifted uncomfortably, scratching the back of her neck and looking down at some corner slightly behind her. Bra pouted with a whimper, and Pan couldn't help but smile just a little. Even though knowing Bra's current outlook on life, she was still Bra. And getting her into a dress had been a dream of Bra's since they were three. 

"I didn't do it on _purpose_," she replied beseechingly. "It just kinda…well…" 

Bra kicked at a shoe box, aiming for a wall, but sending it careening into the side of her best friend's head. Pan batted it away and rubbed at her ear. Bra grinned innocently and Pan stuck her tongue out at her, distorting her face. 

ChiChi shook her head and set the dress on the chair before the vanity, digging into the bag she'd brought in with her, setting aside a sewing box and a thread box. "I had a feeling about this," she started, seeming to find what she was looking for. Slender hands emerged with a buddle swathed in white paper and tied with string. "When Pan destroys a dress, she de_stroys_ it. So I dug this out of my closet while I waited for Goten." She turned around, setting the buddle on the vanity top and gently tugging at the string. The girls moved closer, peering over her shoulders as she slowly undid the knot that kept the bundle together. "Now I know it's not much, but I know how much this meant to both of you…to _all_ of us. Seeing our little Panny in a dress is something that rates up there with a miracle from Dende." 

Pan blushed as her grandmother pulled away the string, unfolding the paper to reveal deep blue silk, feeling herself stop breathing as her grandmother's white hands lifted and unfurled the dress. Next to her, Bra clung tightly to her arm. 

"N…nothing…nothing _much_?" Bra gasped, her eyes wide with wonder. "ChiChi, this is absolutely _gor_geous!" 

"Grandma, where did you get this? How come I haven't seen it before?" 

ChiChi's eyes glazed a little with tears as she handed the dress to the girls, watching as they drew their fingers across the silver embroidery. "My Goku bought it for me not longer after we were married," she replied, taking the dress and holding it up against her granddaughter. Good, it was long enough, but not too long. "Got put it on, already!" 

Without much prodding, Pan was easily ushered behind the dressing screen. 

"ChiChi, how'd he ever find the money for something like that? I mean, I know you guys never really had any money or anything…" 

"I never would have thought Grandpa would have done something like that," Pan added from behind the screen, her voice muffled as she pulled the tank dress over her head. A moment later, it came flying over the top of the screen, followed by rustles of silk. 

"Yeah…no offense, but Goku always struck me as…well, a little thick headed." 

ChiChi shook her head, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. 

"I know that. It's true on both accounts. But my Goku had the biggest heart, and while he may have been naïve, he always did everything he could to keep me happy. I'd yelled at him one morning about never having any nice dresses. He disappeared for a day, worrying me sick. When he came home, he gave me this." 

"How'd he get the money?" Bra asked, resting against the edge of her vanity, pulling a hair brush and a few bobbypins out of a drawer. 

"Odd jobs is what he told me." ChiChi shook her head. "I just wish I had had a chance to wear it. Since I never did, now it's Pan's job." 

"My job?" came the response from behind the screen, the rustles of silk growing softer as they lay against skin. 

"Yes it's your job!" ChiChi snapped before slipping back into her memories, her eyes sparkling. "Goku made me promise to make sure I made that dragon happy. So you have to make him happy because I'm too old to wear a dress like that!" 

"Dragon?" Bra mutted, but cut off as Pan stepped out from behind the screen. 

The dress was something that ChiChi definitely would have worn, being of traditional oriental style, although the slits up the thigh were by far higher than she'd probably have ever been comfortable with-Gohan would probably have choice words to say later when he saw his daughter. The dress was the same color as Pan's eyes as was the dress before it, but the sheen of silk was more alluring than the gloss of cotton. Silver embroidery outlined the dress, the missing sleeves accented her arms, the high collar her neck. The silts on either side separating the front of the dress from the back, delicate silver flowers embroidered into the silk. 

Curled in the front half of the dress, silver scaled and elegant, was a dragon reminiscent of Shenlong, tail and legs crowded comfortably against the hemline, his head bowed just under Pan's breasts. 

Without a word, Bra steered Pan into the chair before the vanity, pulling her hair into a high bun, the short layered strands falling around her eyes. 

"Grandma," she mumbled quietly, her hands drifting almost dreamily against the dress, tracing the dragon, "this dress is…" 

"It's yours, Sweetie. If you promise me you won't run away again." 

Pan smiled and turned, embracing her grandmother and burying her face into her stomach, into the scent of lavender. 

"It really is beautiful, ChiChi," Bra added as she dug through her closet, retrieving a pair of strappy silver heels. 

The old woman beamed happily as she stepped back from her granddaughter, holding the side of her head with both hands. 

"We've all waited a long time for you to grow up Sweetie," she said quietly. With a wink, she added, "Now get downstairs and help Bulma get her grandbabies already." 

"Grandma!" Pan cried as Bra laced their arms together, pulling her friend from the room, shoes dangling from her fingers.

******************************************  
A/N: Blegh...this feels like a filler to me, even though it's not. Anyways, that's tonight's chapter. I'm having trouble with FF again, so I'm just going to warn you all: if for some reason there is not chapter one night, just go to my site. www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers. I'll have posted there regardless, or have an explanation as to wtf happened. 

Reviews = happy author.  
Happy author = updates.  
Happy author - reviews = sad chapters. 

Heh...have any of you noticed that I'm not really chatty here anymore? I guess I'm a little sad about reaching the end. 

-Panabelle ;P  
_All will be explained in time, and time is running out._


	104. Chapter 103: Saiyan Woman

Disclaimer: It is hereby common knowledge that all goats are now to be banished to the nether regions of the world, while sheep are now to be sent to heaven. Where they shall be heartily feasted upon. 

A/N: I'm listening to cake, btb...and yes, Pia, I like pie. 

*************************************************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 103

  
  


"Roar!" 

Gohan started as arms flung themselves around his shoulders, a soft, giggling body snuggling against his back. Startled, he laughed, reaching back and wrapping his arms around his daughter, clasping his hands behind her. She laughed again, setting her chin on his shoulder. 

"Scared ya," she giggled. 

He smiled, remembering when she had been six and had done this on a regular basis. Oh how he had taken those days for granted. 

"You haven't done this in a while," he allowed, but heard her _pfft_ his response. He shook his head and turned his eyes back to Trunks and Vegeta, knowing that their conversation wasn't one that would exclude her. As much as he would love to see what his little girl looked like all grown up, that would require making her let go, and he was loath to do that. He was enjoying deluding himself with the thought that she was still six years old and that there was no one else in the world that his little girl wanted to hang on. 

Vegeta's eyes were thoughtful, his face not so impassive or cold as it normally was. Gohan abruptly remembered the harsh blows that had come between Vegeta and Pan the week before, the verbal blows he hadn't heard, and the physical one that had made Bulma that door to the outside that she'd always wanted in the big room. His hold on his daughter tightened, the knowledge that he _could_ play protector this time not about to let him let her handle this. 

Trunks, on the other hand, was having trouble keeping a straight face. His gaze was blank, impassive, the face that he and Vegeta reserved for battle. A smile fought for control over the boy's lips, quirking up one corner into a friendly smirk; his eyes were absolutely alive. Wonder filled them, like water does the sea, and he fought a losing battle to keep from staring at even the small glimpse of her he had as she hid behind Gohan. 

Curious now, and more than amused at the way the boy's eyes darted from a random object to his daughter, and then abruptly back at another random object as he caught himself staring, Gohan followed the boy's gaze to Pan, pulling away to get a look at what Bra had done. 

Black eyes widened, a melancholy grin kissing his lips. The way the dress clung to her figure, the way the blue fabric matched her eyes, accenting her hair, the way the silver embroidery reflected the light in her eyes and the studs in her ears… Gohan shook his head lightly and let a scowl settle on his lips; the smile faded from her face, her eyes hesitant. She licked nervously at her lips and shifted her weight, waiting for his response, wondering what didn't meet his approval. 

His heart soared at that realization as he averted his eyes, not about to let the smile in them betray him. Finding his mother and Bra walking towards them, he let the pride in knowing that she still valued his opinion fill a part of him that had been terribly empty over the last few days, taking away much of the heartache he had put himself through since she'd returned home. As his mother and Bra joined the group, he clasped Panny protectively to his chest and glared at the older woman, knowing this was just as much her doing as it was the younger's. 

"What did you do to my little girl?" he demanded playfully, mock hurt in his voice as the smile that he'd been fighting found its way into his eyes and onto his mouth. Against him, Panny laughed, wrapping her arms around his back, tilting her face to look up at him accusingly, her eyes sparkling. 

As Bra turned the Finger of Blame to his mother and she in turn smiled with a sense of victory, he looked down at his little girl, deep, dark indigo eyes shining up at him through the ebony strands that feel over and past her forehead. 

"You look beautiful, Panny," he assured her tenderly, brushing aside her bangs and looking down into the blue diamonds that shone up at him. She blushed, relief spreading across her face as she nuzzled against him, punching him lightly in the spleen. Chuckling to himself, he turned them both until he was facing the group and she was slightly in the center of the circle, raising an eyebrow at his mother. "But someone seems to have forgotten that this was an informal party." 

Bra didn't miss a beat as she bounced up to grab her brother in a headlock. The shock fell away from him as he struggled to dislodge her arm, weakly tugging away, pulling at her hands as if he weren't able to simply duck out. 

"It's fair retribution-she's dressed casual for every other party we've ever thrown. Besides," she added with a shrug, freeing her brother who immediately turned the tables on her and his gaze back to the object of conversation. "She destroyed the _casual_ dress I planned to shove her into on her own volition." 

Gohan looked down at Panny, one eyebrow raised. She blushed before ducking out of his arms, and turned to face Vegeta.

* * *

Blue eyes started him down in a defiant challenge; it was quite a relief to know he hadn't broken her. According to his mate and daughter, the girl had spent much of the last seven days in a shattered state-like his son had spent the last four years. 

Vegeta smirked and met her gaze, crossing his arms over his chest. He had to admit, begrudgingly of course, that she was the best subordinate he had. The strength of Kakarot and the intelligence of Gohan, matched with the temper of the devil woman and the feisty, never-take-no-for-an-answer attitude of Gohan's mate, had made the perfect-although extremely gentle-saiyan woman. 

No one better for his son. 

The others around them shifted awkwardly, Gohan protectively, Trunks with nervous and guilty apprehension, the others with fear of a repeat performance-unlikely. He was and would continue to be on his guard this time. 

But the girl-woman held his gaze evenly, challenging him to try and destroy her again. 

He smirked-who was he to deny a challenge? 

"Just as I said," he intoned, making himself sound condescending so he couldn't be openly accused of complimenting her, "never amount to nothing." 

Her gaze grew flat and dark, she bristled angrily, hands clenching into tight fists at her sides. She moved to snap at him, but then blinked as if struck with a sudden thought. Blue eyes shifted to the side, her arms crossing over her chest automatically as she mulled on his words. Around him, the others shifted their weight, trying to understand what was going on. 

Amused, he watched his son out of the corner of his eye, saw him clench and unclench his jaw. He knew the boy understood, but he also knew the boy's emotions were thrown into an upheaval when it came to the girl-woman, who _hadn't_ understood the previous week. 

He ignored the others and focused his attention solely on the granddaughter of Kakarot. 

The affronted look on her face had passed, anger fading into thoughtfulness. She skimmed a fingernail back and forth across her elbow, layers of black hair blocking much of her face from his gaze. 

As he watched, she started slightly, straightening her posture, arms coming slightly unfolded. She looked back at him without turning her head, her eyes bright and curious. He nodded once, a practically imperceptible movement of his head that he doubted the others noticed. 

A grin broke out across her face, the same smile that Kakarot had always had. Silently, he crushed the memory of his friend and rival. She had been right that Kakarot had meant a lot to him-but she was wrong that he had abused that friendship. Kakarot had understood his pride, and he had understood that imbecile's view of things; quite often, when he had a problem understanding something, he imagined the world through Kakarot's eyes-of course that view was always jaded and cynical for him, and he'd never admit it if his life and the world depended on it. But he'd done it once or twice. 

Or more than that… 

"Thank you, Vegeta," she said quietly. She was referring to more than the compliment-she seemed that have realized earlier and on her own that he'd said what he had to push her that last step. Past that barrier that had restricted her for so long. 

He nodded, braced for the impact of the hug he knew was coming, but she surprised him with a formal nod. Around them, the others breathed a sigh of relief, his offspring smiling with the knowledge that their friend understood. Gohan blinked, then nodded to himself. The devil woman showed nothing. 

"Panny?" The girl-woman turned to her father, who held out an arm. "Let's go find your mother, shall we?" 

She grinned, grabbing his arm and letting him lead her away. Trunks released his sister, and she and the devil woman tagged along behind, eager to see the reactions Pan received. 

The boy stayed. 

They stood in silence, watching the others mingle. The silence was comfortable, father and son falling into a routine that had fallen into memory as the boy had aged. Vegeta know the boy was troubled, and he knew exactly what about. As the boy shifted awkwardly, he turned his gaze to watch him out of the corner of his eye. 

Feeling his father's attention on him, the boy let go of the act and shoved both hands into his pockets, looking after the girl-woman intently, watching as she chatted with Videl and Bulma. 

"Father?" 

Vegeta turned his head to look at his son. One real look at him answered everything. With a silent sigh through his nose, Vegeta nodded.

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A/N: Wow...chapters have been long for me lately...know what that means. ;P 

Reviews. The things that make us authors tick. 

-Panabelle ;P  
_All will be explained in time and time is coming to an end._


	105. Chapter 104: Saints and Sinners

Disclaimer: me me me me me. you you you you you. we we we we we don't oooooooooooooooooooooooooooown, dbz. 

A/N: *nice big stretch* So...very...close! *cracks neck and starts on tomorrow night's chapter* 

********************************************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 104

  
  


"Didn't you promise me the first dance, Gohan?" 

Pan smiled, watching her mother snag her father's wrist and drag him, protesting, whining, and resisting, to the dance floor. She settled back onto a table, planting her feet in a chair. In the chair next to her feet, her uncle laughed. 

"Shame Marron couldn't make it," he said quietly, resting an arm on her lap, the other along the back of his chair. "All of us finally together and Krillin worried to death over his daughter." 

"Because of Bra?" Pan asked quietly, still finding the reason her friend had given as completely like Krillin _or_ 18. 

Goten shook his head, black hair flopping about his face. She smiled, scratching the top of his head, a part of her aching for the grandfather he so resembled, another just happy that he was still with her. He turned his head this way and that, letting her scratch the spots that itched, letting his eyes wander until he found Bulma and her daughter making the rounds, currently in the middle of a heated debate with Yamcha. Bulma was raging-Bra was clutching her stomach and laughing. 

"No…despite anything she says, most of us don't care. It's her life and therefore her decision. Trunks is convinced she's just lonely and confused, but he's still supportive of her. I think he's just disappointed that he won't get to help Vegeta scare new boyfriends into submission." 

Pan laughed quietly and he looked up at her, leaning against her side as she turned his head into an armrest. 

"No, the reason Krillin's scared for his daughter is only indirectly connected to Bra's change in lifestyle, and that's a sketchy line, at best." 

"What changed her? I mean…" 

Goten shook his head knowingly, watching as Yamcha turned to Bra for help, only to make her laugh harder. "The story with Bra is that she finally found a guy that really meant something to her, who then went off and left her. If she wants you to know the details, she can tell you herself, but we both know that she won't say anything. She bottles things up just as much as the rest of us." 

Pan nodded in agreement, letting her uncle continue with what was obviously common knowledge. 

"Basically, she almost loved the guy, got her heart broken one too many times by the bastard, and has since lost all faith and trust in the male population." 

Pan remained quiet for a while, and then offered up a strange, "Oh," before resting an elbow on her knees and her chin on her hand. "So that's what Trunks meant." 

He looked back up at her, curious black eyes looking for an answer in blue. 

"Hmm? Oh, yeah…Trunks and I have been having a lot of late night heart-to-hearts lately. He made mention of Bra confiding in him that all of the decent men are out of bounds." 

Goten nodded, his gaze level on hers. 

"Something tells me you've been edging around what your heart really needs you to tell him." 

She ignored the statement though she felt a pinch in her heart as his words voiced what her emotions had been trying to tell her. Across the yard, Bulma pushed Yamcha into a punch bowl, soaking him completely and knocking Bra onto the ground with a fit of hysteria. 

"So why's Krillin so worried about Marron?" she asked quietly. 

Goten looked back up at her, but was unable to answer. 

"Currently, the bastard's stalking _her_," came a voice from behind them. Pan turned and watched as Trunks came up and stood beside her, his eyes on his sister, a slight twinkle in cobalt blue eyes that shortly turned back to her. "Marron likes the guy, but she doesn't know how to tell Bra. And she also knows that he's probably a mistake waiting to happen. Bra's pretending she never knew that bastard was using her to get to Marron. Krillin's decided it's best to just keep Marron to himself and 18 for a while-they don't' want her to get hurt by the guy like my sister did, and they also know that the two have been best friends ever since…" He broke off, staring at the ground and rubbing the back of his head. Pan smiled as he shoved a hand into his black slacks. He was fidgety for some reason that was beyond her, and it was cute as anything. "Well, for about four years now. Krillin nor 18 want her to jeopardize Bra for a playing bastard, and Marron understands that. So she's taking her sabbatical from teaching and staying home to think things over and decide what she really wants to do." 

"She teaches?" 

"Kindergarteners," Goten chirped proudly. He grinned. "18 and I conned her superiors into thinking she'd been on the verge of a nervous breakdown due to family stress, so they cut her hours and told her to take the rest of the year off. Next year she'll work a half day, then spend the other half helping me with the dojo." 

Pan laughed. "The guy must be a real asshole for you to hate him like you do," she added with a hit of wonder, looking over at Trunks. He blushed and shoved the other hand deep into a pocket. 

Goten tapped her knee, drawing her attention. 

"The guy makes both of us look like catholic priests. The kindest way to put it, is that he taught that asshole who wanted to take you to prom." Pan shuddered at the memory. Beside her, Trunks shifted his weight and slipped an arm around her back. 

"He's not so bad," he replied, glaring down at her uncle. "He's never gone so far as to necessitate violence, but that doesn't mean my father and I don't want to kill him anyways." 

She smiled tentatively. "Whatever happened to that asshole?" 

Both fell silent. She looked anxiously between the two, wondering what had happened to her last boyfriend, the guy who had tied to date rape her when she was hardly 18. When they remained silent, she pinched her uncle's arm. 

"Ooo_ow_," he whined, whimpering pitiably. She grinned as he rubbed at the reddened skin, before looking up at Trunks, her elbow poised to make contact with his ribs. 

A smirk lit on his lips, she frowned in return. 

"What did you two do to him?" she demanded. 

"We wrapped him up in a big red bow and gave him to my Father as an early Father's Day gift," he grinned, laughing at the horror of the inhuman act that spread across her face. He only laughed harder as she turned and pummeled with half-hearted fists. 

"_No_ one deserves that!" she cried as he defended himself by curling around them both, ensnaring her against his chest. 

His laughter grew a little somber as she giggled into his shirt, the scent of her hair engulfing him. His hand sought out hers, gently grasping her fingers. 

"Let's go dance," he chuckled quietly, tugging her to her feet. Still giggling, she followed him onto the dance floor.

**************************************  
A/N: And for anyone who's considering the Tear Drops Challenge, I've tweaked things a bit. You can now draw any t/p pic (mushy or non), or a gohan/pan father/dauther pic. Submissions due the 20th of February. 

-Panabelle ;P  
_All be will explain in time, and time is running out._


	106. Chapter 105: Heartbeat

Disclaimer: Sorry. Nothing creative today. Here's my Chibi Trunks action figure and Jack in little pink leotards to entertain you. *Jack holds a sign reading: "She is so going to die for this."* 

***************************************************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 105

  
  


Somehow, the night had slipped away form him. 

He really didn't know how, the night had gone like any other night: mingle with people he hadn't seen in forever, dance, drink, make merry. But something was different. 

At some point, the rest of the world just seemed to fade from existence. 

Maybe it was exhaustion, the first real chance to unwind after more than seven straight days of stress. Maybe it was the atmosphere, the open air and friends, with no obligations. 

Or maybe it was something else. 

_Some_one else. 

"I thought you hated dancing." 

He shrugged, firmly placing a hand in the small of her back, spinning them both around the outskirts of the back porch that had been reserved for dancing. "I don't like dancing in public," he replied as she giggled, their knees banging lightly together as they both seemed to have forgotten the steps. "Feels too much like everyone's staring at me." 

"People usually _are_ staring at you," she pointed out, eyes twinkling as she pushed out their arms in a mock tango stance. Laughing himself, he joined her as they plunged and wove into the crowds on the dance floor, acting much like children who had grown bored with the conventional means of entertainment for the night. 

"I'd have thought you'd be used to it," she added. 

"Pride of steel," he admitted, blushing a little as they reclaimed their spot of floor near the apple trees. "Hate it. But there's no one else to do it." 

She smiled, the sparkle in her eyes reflecting the sparkle in his own. His heart seemed to sigh and he drew her into a hug as they slowed to a slight shuffling of feet, wrapping his arms around her, pushing his face into the crook of her neck. 

"I missed you," he whispered, feeling her suddenly stiff body relax against him, her arms encircling his neck, face nuzzling into his shoulder. 

"I missed you too, you big oaf," she mumbled back. 

Time lost meaning to him then, as they held each other there on the edge of the dance floor, a million faceless people whom he knew surrounding them, a million faceless people whom he couldn't see. He held her tighter, turning his cheek against hers, looking away over her shoulder as he tried to name the sudden strength that filled him. 

A strength he'd almost forgotten, had almost never even known was there. 

His heart skipped a beat as she snuggled closer against him, his hands slipping across silk as he tried to hold her as close to him as he could, as if he could combine their hearts, turn two into a single heartbeat. Smiling and slightly scared, he lifted a hand and cupped her shoulder, glissing his thumb across the soft porcelain that was the only clue to the delicate and fragile feelings within. Eyes lingered her the tattoo, the subtle and light shading of the four-star dragonball, a newborn Wish Granter wrapped around it, his head on his forearms, sleeping peacefully. He seemed to be looking through a dream, but the ethereal vision was as real as the girl in his arms. 

He smiled with the cadence of his heart, glissing his thumb once more across her skin before wrapping both arms back around her. He had missed the steady rhythm of his heart, had missed the warm feeling that filled him. Had missed the way it raced when she was near, when he held her, the way he could hear every pulse, feel every throb, count every beat. 

She wasn't asleep, but she wasn't exactly aware of herself either. She was comfortable in his arms, and he was with her in them. It felt right to him. He nuzzled her ear a little with his nose, blue eyes closing as black hair tickled his face, feeling her giggle quietly to herself. 

How were they so used to each other? When had they gotten so close? Why did she let him hold her like this? 

What could he do to hold her like this forever? 

_Would you? If you could hold her in your arms and feel the world slip away?_

He smiled nervously, azure eyes looking down at the sleeping Wish Granter. She shifted in his arms, seeming to pull away. Panic shot through his heart, a quick stab that punctured his soul. Time hit him full in the face at the moment, slapping him with the reality that time was slipping away from him. 

That _she_ was slipping away from him. 

Already four years had passed, already she was more a woman than he was a man. 

_But would you?_

He lifted his head, letting her pull back and stand at arms' length, her hands on his upper arms, his cupping her hips. She tossed her head, knocking strands of midnight from blue eyes deeper than any sky. 

"What's wrong?" she whispered, eyes moving to where her family stood, waiting for her. His eyes probed hers, his heart beating slowly, painfully, searching for something in her own deep blue eyes… 

"What is it?" she prodded. She was worried now, she wouldn't leave before she knew what was wrong. 

But nothing was wrong, nothing at all. _Everything is so incredibly right_, he wanted to tell her, but his voice was failing him; he opened his mouth, but no sound came out, only air came in. Everything was wonderfully right for the first time in a long time. 

He just didn't know how to tell her that. 

Didn't know if he could. 

Concerned, she lifted her hand, resting the inner side of her wrist against his forehead; he'd lost, he knew it in that instant. All the battles he'd fought with himself since the night he'd first touched those lips, all of the battles he'd fought within, he'd lost. 

Meekly, he reached up, grasping her hand, gently clutching her fingers in his. Her eyes drifted to their hands as he let go of her, tracing the faint, crescent-shaped scars in the soft white skin of her palm. 

She opened her mouth again, opened her mouth to ask him one last time, and he smiled, lifting blue eyes to meet bluer, memorizing the way she looked at that instant: eyes painted dark in the shadows that they hid under and full of white stars, hair the color of midnight in all her seasons. Her lips formed a worried smile and he pulled her to him, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, holding her tightly as if he'd never get to hold her again. 

"What's wrong?" she whispered into his chest, planting both hands into his chest, breaking the embrace. The aggravated fury in her eyes at his evasiveness faded into nothing as she met his gaze, her hands and arms losing a little bit of their strength between them. "What are you…" She trailed off, as if sensing that stopping him now would stop him forever, as if she knew that they'd never stand like this again. 

Not like this, never exactly like this. 

A smile kissed his lips, the first real smile he'd given her in a long time; a slight upturning of his lips, no malice or humor in the expression, just melancholy acceptance. 

Acceptance of a rejection he knew he could never avoid. 

"I love you."

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-Panabelle ;P  
_All is coming to an end, but there are new beginnings beyond the horizon._


	107. Chapter 106: Freefall

Disclaimer: *Chibi Trunks tugs uncomfortably at the leotard. Jack sits on the ground, sharpening the end of his sign to a point.* 

A/N: I see that you all liked the last chapter. ^.^ Don't kill me! 

**Something about Jack's character that you should all be aware of: he is the staple character that goes chibi without meaning to, despite (and without losing) his serious demeanor. So think Vash, think Kenshin, think Kyo, think irked Inu Yasha.** Continue! ^.^ Please don't kill me. 

************************************************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 106

  
  


He smiled as he saw her approach, too-long blue jeans and a bright red tube top, a white dress shirt tied over top, two pigtail-braids swinging in the breeze. As much as he would have liked to avoid her right now, he really didn't want to. As angry as he was pretending to be, he was happy. _This_ was _his_ Pan. 

Seeing him, she broke into a run, waving a hand high above her head, a full-fledged smile like he hadn't seen in ages, bright across her face and in her eyes. 

"Jack!" 

He was still supposed to be mad at her, and he tried to force away the smile into a frown, but as she collided with him, arms wrapped tightly around him, knocking them both back several feet, he couldn't help it. Arms lifted of their own will, encircling her. 

This was the reunion he'd wanted. 

"I'm sorry," she whispered, refusing to let go and refusing to let him let go, knowing that he didn't want to, and that he wouldn't continue hold her to if she didn't make him. "I didn't know…I honestly thought…" 

He scrambled out of her grasp, gripping two shoulders and pushing her away from him, pushing away the subject completely. He didn't let himself smile, didn't let himself show any real emotion, but he knew she knew he was happy, knew she could feel it inside of him, just as he could feel her stiffened muscles through the overshirt. 

"Shouldn't it be snowing here?" he demanded. "Shouldn't you be wearing something a little more substantial?" 

She relaxed and smiled in relief. "It's only middle of spring back home. Middle of autumn here. The air won't be chill for another week or two." 

"'Home'?" he repeated gingerly. 

She shrugged, her eyes looking away as if it was just a slip of the tongue. His hands fell to his sides; something had happened. Something monumental that she wanted to run away from. 

"But I thought…" 

"We were never engaged," she told him. "It was a scam of his mother's. She _wants_ us to be, but we're not even together-" 

"But you want to be." 

She blinked startled blue eyes and looked up at him. "What?" 

"Don't tell me it's a lie when you want it with all of your heart to be true." 

She smiled shakily and relaxed again, grasping one of his hands and tugging him down the busy street, her hand in his making him feel a little more comfortable in the city, a little more like he belonged here. At least with her. 

"You always have been able to read me." 

He shrugged, a movement that seemed to accuse her of the same. 

"What happened, Pan?" 

The morning sky was strangely clear, clouds drifting lazily overhead. They paused at a corner, waiting for the light change, losing themselves in the crowds they had often gone out of their ways to avoid back home. Two sets of hands found two sets of pockets. He turned his eyes to the ground a few feet before them, she lifted her face to the sun. The silence was comfortable, saying more than words ever did. 

Some time after lunch found them in a little diner, Pan ordering him coffee and herself a soda in a language he didn't understand, a few other words leaving her lips that he might have recognized, but that didn't register. A waitress returned, carrying a large platter of rice balls. 

_Onigiri_, Pan told him as she picked one up and held it before his face. He tried to push her hand away and lay no claim to hunger, but she wouldn't let him, and he reluctantly obliged, taking the rice ball and tasting. It wasn't bad, but then, he'd always loved rice. 

She laughed as he ate around the fish he'd known would be inside. 

They'd said nothing since he'd broached the subject, and he didn't mind. That was the way they'd always been, and the way they'd probably always be. Sure, they had once been able to talk for hours on end, and had, but then they had discovered each other's love for expression, for warm silences. And that was that. Any other conversation felt wrong to them, talking out loud said too little. 

Sometimes even said too much. 

Slouching back in the half of the booth he'd claimed, he looked out the window, watching a little girl pull her brother down the street, both of them laughing. He came up behind her, scooping her up into his arms and slinging her over his shoulder, spinning them both around once or twice before she wriggled back down to the ground and dragged him onward. 

"So Mr. Wonderful finally cracked," he said quietly, smiling privately to himself, looking at her out of the corner of his eye as he watched the happy expressions of the children as they ran past. 

Pan froze and lowered her rice ball to her plate. 

"Jack?" 

Steel blue eyes turned to face her and he smiled. "The guy's crazy for you, Pan." 

A blush rose up from her neck across her face, coving every exposed inch of skin from the bust up. Her face tilted towards the table, but instead of that lovey-dovey-happy-girl look he'd always seen on Molly's freckled face, Pan looked confused, downright lost even. 

"I noticed," she said quietly, pushing away her plate. 

She said nothing more and he turned away his gaze, lifting his eyes to the pink and purple clouds overhead in the yellow sky, acutely aware of how late it had grown, as if he were watching sand pour through an hourglass. 

"He says he loves me," she said as she left some money on the table and stood, leading him out of the diner. She shrugged her shoulders out of her overshirt and she played with the sleeves nervously, unfolding them and picking at the button holes in the cuffs. "Last night before I went home. He told me." 

"And you told him?" 

She sighed and let go of the sleeves, letting the shirt hang from her forearms like a shawl. Blue eyes lifted to the skies as they found themselves in a residential area, looking past the telephone and electrical lines that seemed to create a net between the streets and the heavens, not letting angels descend, or the fallen ascend. 

"And you told him?" he prodded, eyes growing hard as he watched her. She sighed. 

"Nothing." 

"What?" 

"Nothing. I told him nothing. I stood there and stared at him. And then I freaked. I fought my way past him and to my father. I…" She blushed. "I ran out of there so fast that I forgot to stop and get my things from his sister's room…your card was in the back pocket of my khakis too." 

"Just like you to know exactly how you feel and not tell anybody, even when the opportunity's been handed to you." 

Blue eyes bore into his own, she scowled angrily. 

"Hypocrite." 

He shrugged it off, as if saying that at least he owned up to it. Beside him, she sighed, stomping her feet a few times. He smirked as she threw a little fit, taking the time to tug on the pant leg of his cargo khakis, adjusting the way they fell onto his sneaker. 

"What am I going to _dooooo_, Jack?" She turned to him, tugging on his arm, her eyes pleading for help. Big blue orbs of confusion looked up at him, and he couldn't help but notice the tears that he doubted she was aware of. 

This was really tearing her up inside. 

"What you always do: act like nothing happened, and then let it all pour out when you're alone with him." 

She took half a second to glare at him before jumping a little in aggravation and throwing herself against him dramatically. He chuckled lightly, standing still, letting her have out the emotions that she'd been bottling since the previous night and who knew how long. 

"It doesn't work that way," she mumbled into his shirt. Rolling his eyes behind his glasses, he raised an arm and patted her sarcastically in the center of her back, like a brother would. 

"Why not? It's worked with me for the last four years. You and Molly both. I don't see how this is any different." He didn't soften his voice for her, didn't fill it with sympathy. He just lowered it, pointing out the obvious like he always did, if maybe a little gentler than normal. 

"You never…it's just different." 

He pushed his hand back into his pocket, feeling almost foolish as they stood on the sidewalk right before each other, her head fallen onto his shoulder, himself acting as if she were a few paces off. 

"_How_ is it different." 

"Jack…you never…" 

"What didn't I ever do," he prodded, his voice soft and almost actually gentle for once. She sighed against him, shaking her head. "What? What didn't I do?" 

"You never did," she whispered quietly. 

There. It was out into the open. No regret or sadness was in her voice, just the fact that she'd never felt that way or wanted him to. 

He was more a brother to her. A friend who she trusted above all others. 

And what she said was true. There were things that could be forgiven as a friend, but not as something more. 

"Why'd you freak, Pan." 

She straightened and they started walking again. Around them the sky darkened into a million purples, dark blue and black clouds clustered on the horizon. Pan pulled her overshirt back on, wrapping it tightly around her from a wind that wasn't much more than a breeze. 

"You really don't _know_ how you feel about him, do you?" 

She shook her head lamely and threw herself down in the grass of a moonlit yard. Cautiously, waiting for someone to come out and yell at them, he lowered himself down next to her, laying back and looking up at the stars. She flopped back next to him, pillowing her head on her hands, and sighed. 

"I left the country to find myself. _Al_so, to get a_way_ from him. The concept was just too weird…I mean, ok, he's my best friend, so I guess that's ok, but everyone I know looks at us like brother and sister. That's just…" 

"Wrong," he supplied, propping up both knees and folding his hands on his chest. Beside him, she nodded. 

"And I guess I did…I mean, ok, so I didn't date in Cali…except for that one _really_ awkward night that we cracked and gave into everyone at Bicycle. But, I mean, that doesn't necessarily mean anything. It felt nice not to have to worry about liking anyone for a change, and not having to worry about leaving someone behind or something like that. And when I got home, it was just like it was when I was dating in high school. Sure, deep down I knew that he was more than a friend, but I was more than content and actually more than a little happy with the way things were. Things were relaxed, really homey, you know?" 

"Being content isn't always being happy." 

She sighed and flung both arms out to her side, one slapping him hard in the chest. His eyes bulged a little and he struggled for a breath of air, but he said nothing and merely grasped her hand, playing with her fingers. 

"You're not helping me," she whined. 

He shook his head with a smirk, knowing that she was aware that he knew everything that had happened since she'd left, but that she was clueless about _how_ he knew. A few moments passed, the stars brightening above, the sun completely gone. 

"Things have just been really confusing this last week…," she started quietly, "and then there was that staged dinner that I wasn't aware of until it fell into my lap…that _he_ wasn't aware of, and then _last_ night… What am I supposed to think, Jack?" 

"What do you want to think?" 

She didn't answer then. Above, the heavens stretched, the moon peaking above the treetops. Life on the streets died, all became still. Nobody came out demanding they lay on someone else's lawn. 

"You sound like you just need to get away for a while, figure things out for yourself," he mumbled, pushing his fingers through hers, curling an arm under his head. 

Beside him, she smiled. 

"Get up," she said quietly, getting to her own feet. When he made no motion to follow her orders, she leaned down and grasped his hand, hauling him up. 

"Why?" he asked, amused, watching as she tried to get his knees to lock. 

"I want to go flying. I want to show you something." 

He raised an eyebrow, but complied, letting her wrap two arms stronger than his own around his middle, feeling the familiar sensation of swallowing his stomach as they slowly left the ground.

* * *

The universe seemed to stretch out before them as they flew lazily through the skies, or rather, as Pan darted this way and that and he did his best to hold his own in a hovering position, short blond hair ruffling madly in the wind. 

Stars lay before him, manmade stars that filled the island country, shaping it before him and beneath the clouds, some stars so bright to be blinding, others so dim he might have missed them if he hadn't been staring down there for a while. 

"Isn't it absolutely gorgeous?" she breathed, attacking him in a hug from behind. Grateful that she didn't let go, he grasped both her arms and stopped fighting gravity, letting himself relaxed. 

"It's like the map of the light that they sold at the fair last winter," he mumbled, and she giggled quietly. 

"It _is_ a map of the lights, silly. Only it's _real_. It's not a photograph." 

"It's amazing." 

Clouds drifted around them, brushed up against them like fingers might touch water. Already on the eastern horizon he could see the skies growing lighter. The water below them was almost so dark as to be black, but shone a bright electric blue where the sun's light touched it. He didn't want to think about how high up they might be, didn't want to think about how thin the oxygen was. He was thankful he had never been a heavy breather. 

"_This_ is what I was babbling about all those years back in California," she said quietly. "_These_ are the lights of Japan I wanted to show you. As far as I'm concerned, there's nothing so beautiful." 

He smirked, looking back at her through the glare of stars above and below that lay across his glasses. 

"I can think of a few things." 

She blushed, but then shook her head, turning them towards the ground.. "I should probably get you back to the hotel, your grandfather's probably worried sick." Immediately, his heart started racing in anticipation, and she didn't disappoint him, letting them freefall and drift and twirl and roll. 

"Do you know what you want to do yet, Angel?" he yelled back at her over the wind, gripping to her arms, knowing she hated being called that. 

She laughed, leaning them into a tight spiral, until there was no up, there was no down, there was only the air, only them, suspended somewhere in time, somewhere between dawn and midnight. 

"I take this as a yes?" 

"I know what I _need_ to do, yes!" she yelled back, pulling them away from gravity until they drifted lightly on the breeze, the air smelling of sweet salt and memories. 

"You know what I want?" he asked her as she banked away from the lights below them, towards the black-blue seas, descending so close that the spray from the waves surrounded them, that he could have reach down and touched the water below had he wanted to. 

"What do you want, Jack?" she asked, pulling him close to her as they landed on a bluff overlooking the ocean. Before them, the world was starting to light with pinks and yellows, soft lilacs and softer indigoes. 

They stood side by side, not needing to look at each other, not wanting to. 

"I want to get married."

**************************************************  
A/N: *hides* Don't hurt me! I'm getting there, I swear! I'm not stalling! Review? Gagh! *dives under desk as crazy readers come after her* 

-Panabelle ;P  
_All will be explained in time, and yet time just doesn't seem to exist anymore._

P.S. To whoever asked, _no_, PT is NOT going to have a sequel. I'm sorry if I aluded to that. 


	108. Chapter 107: No Regrets

Disclaimer: Trying to rearrange one's class schedule a week and a half before the sememster starts is like trying to find the cure for the common cold. Always so close - but never gonna happen. 

A/N: Gagh, why does everyone hate Jack so much? *big watery chibi eyes* What did he ever do to any of you? 

********************************************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 107

  
  


"Are you sure, Panny?" 

The sad, quiet voice from her doorway found her as she was pushing open the top of her suitcase. Hesitating for a moment, she let the top fall back into the bed, picking up a pair of jeans, refolding them as she set them within. 

"I need this, Daddy." 

Her father sighed, her doorjamb creaking as he leaned all of his weight against it. She peeked a glance at him over her shoulder, noting the way he held his glasses in one hand, arms crossed over his chest, watching her with a melancholy sadness that hurt her as much as it did him. 

It was nice to know that he'd finally let go, that he was finally letting her make her choices, but it was disconcerting and almost terrifying to know that he wouldn't be right behind her to catch her if she fell again. 

"I know, Panny," he replied quietly. "But I just get the feeling you won't be coming back this time." 

She smiled, lowering a small stack of shirts into the suitcase. 

"It's not like _I'm_ the one who's getting married, Daddy. Jack just needs me there." 

"Like Trunks needed me?" 

The blow struck her hard in the stomach and she gripped both sides of the suitcase with white fists. She clenched her eyes shut, ground her teeth. Behind her, his back against the other side of the jamb, leaned her uncle, arms crossed over his chest, black eyes watching her intently. 

Forcing air back into her lungs, she raised a shaky hand, lifting another shirt, busying herself with folding it, forcing her nerves to calm. 

"When did you get so smart, Uncle Goten?" she asked, her voice trembling, belying to confidence she was trying to show. "I don't remember you knowing so much." 

"When it became clear to me that my best friend was as blind to your feelings as he was to his own," he replied gently. 

She sighed, lightly dropping the shirt into the suitcase; not where it belonged, just where it fell. Her eyes lingered on the photographs that Molly and Jack had taped to the inside of the lid before she'd left, after she'd thought herself packed. Pictures of the three of them at a party, of her and Molly at work, of Jack trying to destroy the camera. An old photo, Molly when she was seven or eight, playing with the pancake batter that would forge their friendship; an older one, a three year old Jack running across a backyard, holding a toy airplane high above his head. One of herself, sleeping in one of the kitchen cupboards, a few days after Bicycle House had joined the ranks of the fraternity-elite, when they'd been working hard on moving in. 

"I wish I knew how _I_ felt," she whispered quietly, her eyes straying to the trinkets that the two had painstakingly glued: a well-worn cover to a book that had been loved to pieces, pages of other books Molly had introduced her to, favorite passages. Concert tickets; pins and patches from animes she'd hooked them on, from places they'd taken her. Her tassel, pocket lint that had Molly had scrounged from Jack's pocket, a shoelace he stolen from Molly. 

"I know that," Gohan said quietly, watching her as her eyes lifted to the window. 

She sighed, watching the sunrise outside. In every picture of Jack and Molly, Molly was oblivious, and Jack was so obviously in love with her. Of course she knew the truth…Molly wanted _her_ to have Jack. Some strange reasoning that had never made sense to her, but that the rising sun had shed a little light onto: Molly was terrified of getting hurt. But she was more terrified of hurting Jack. 

"But you can't expect _him_ to," he added. There was no question about who He was. 

"He won't wait forever, Pan," Goten added. Her face lowered towards her suitcase, eyes open but unseeing, settling on one of the pages Molly had glued inside. _Everything seemed to sharpen in focus for him, centering on Sabriel, her black hair gleaming like a raven's wing in the afternoon sun. I love her, he thought. But if I say the wrong thing now, I may never…_

She nodded once, her heart heavy. 

"I know that." 

Behind her, her father said something that she couldn't hear and wasn't meant to hear, and her uncle responded. A few more words, and the younger brother disappeared down the hall. 

Moving the shirt to a place where it wouldn't get in the way, she reached for the next pair of jeans, but paused half an instant before two loving hands eased onto her shoulders, rubbing gently at her neck. 

"I'm not running away, Daddy. I just…I want to know how I _really_ feel. I know I care…but…_love_…" She shook her head lightly. "I mean…I always thought I knew…but it's…it's a big word…and I don't want to tell him that, only to turn around and hurt him when I realize that I don't." 

"I know, Pan," he said quietly, gently massaging her shoulders as she placed a sweatshirt within. "None of us could ever blame you for running away, though. It's something all of us have done." 

She laughed quietly, almost sardonically, dropping the last of her clothing within. 

"I mean it, Sweetie," her father continued, turning her around to face him and pushing her into a sitting position on the bed. "Emotions are scary things-especially to a race that was never meant to have any." 

He was only adding the confusion in her black sapphire eyes. He smiled and knelt before her, grasping both of her hands in his, the heals of his palms resting on her knees. 

"Guys have a hard enough time with admitting we need someone or something, but it's nothing compared to being a saiyan. To a race that survived on pride and honor alone, emotions like love were seen as a weakness." 

"But how come…I mean, anger makes us stronger…" 

He shook his head, squeezing her fingers gently in his. "It's not anger that makes us stronger, Panny, although that's certainly the channel for it. No…it's love, really. When it all comes down to it, when most of us broke the barrier, we were protecting someone we care about, or protecting ourselves from the realization that we cared about someone. Your grandfather, when Krillin was killed, leaving Piccolo wounded and me almost defenseless. Trunks and Goten will never admit it, but they got themselves into a lot of trouble down in the valley one day when they were kids, and were both trying to at least get the other out. They have a self-sacrificing friendship; they're brother's in their own right in that they'll do anything to help each other-which is why the last few years have been so hard on both of them, and is probably why Trunks has been just as lost as you were when you left us the first time." 

"What about you, Daddy?" 

He smiled sadly. "Everyone I cared about was in danger from someone whom, by an intuition all his own, my father knew I had to stop." 

"Cell?" 

He nodded and squeezed her fingers again. 

"What I'm trying to tell you, Sweetie, is that we all have a human need to love and be loved-being saiyan only makes it harder to admit it. Even to ourselves. I know you're not running away, you've done that already. We've all done it, and we all will. Whether we do or we don't is a losing battle that none of us can ever hope to win. Vegeta ran away, Trunks has been running, Bra is. I ran away, Goten's trying not to, you've done your running. Just know that your uncle's right. Trunks _won't_ wait forever. He's waited four years for you to come home, _knowing_; and probably another five or ten waiting for you to grow up, waiting for him_self_ to realize it. If you're gone too long this time," he added gently, rocking forward onto his knees, pulling her into a hug, "he might have run to somebody else by the time you get home." 

She didn't say anything for a while, but then spoke quietly, holding him tightly, as if this was their good-bye. 

"I'd be content to be his friend," she mumbled, her chin on his shoulder. 

"But being content isn't always being happy," he replied quietly, rubbing her back as he stood, not quite ready to let go. "That's a lesson I almost lost your mother to." 

She looked up at him as he let go, and he rubbed the top of her head. 

"You should at least tell him why you're going, Panny. Don't leave him crushed for another girl to come by and pick up the pieces." 

She smiled up at him lightly and he leaned down, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, giving her fingers one last squeeze. 

"What happened to me never going near him again?" she asked, a hint of a smile in her voice, some small fleck of fragile courage in her eyes that could easily be stepped on and destroyed. "Didn't you declare that to the stars in the middle of the night three days ago?" 

"Just because you grew up doesn't mean I'm not your father, Panny. I had a little trouble remembering that. I just want to see you happy, Sweetie. I want you to be able to look back on your life without any regrets." 

She watched him as he started towards the door, hands in his pockets, tail swishing slowly from side to side as he walked, looking relaxed-_hon_estly relaxed for the first time since she'd come home. 

"Daddy?" 

He paused, holding the doorframe with one hand, looking over his shoulder at her. 

"Hmm?" 

"Do you have any regrets?" 

He smiled. "Only that I was too busy being the father of a gorgeous little girl to see the beautiful young woman that she'd become before my very eyes." Her eyes shimmered with tears and he hesitated, about to walk back and embrace her one last time, but seeing the fragile courage in them, he stopped. He'd squash that one spark, and she'd either leave and stay gone too long, or she'd stay, and never say anything. "I love you, Sweetie. Always. Remember that." 

She nodded, smiling through the tears that had no real need to fall. 

"I love you too, Daddy. You're the greatest…you always will be." 

He smiled and gave her a wink before walking back out into the hall. 

_And you'll always be my little girl, Pan pan._

***************************************************  
A/N: I absolutely _love_ how you all just assumed something about my poor little Jack, and were so busy freaking out and hating him, that I don't think anyone who reviewed stopped to realize that he would have _asked_ her to marry him, not just _told_ her he _wanted_ to get married. *shakes head* *Jack cowers behind his sign, swinging it at anything that gets near* Look what you _did_ to my poor little muse! *loads her tranquilzer gun* 

And by the way, if anyone's wondering, that quote is from _Sabriel_. My bible. You knew I'd have to quote it sometime. _Go read that it already!_ If you've already read it, _read it again!_

-Panabelle ;P  
_All will be explained in time, and time has all but gone._


	109. Chapter 108: Run

Disclaimer: *has duct taped her mouth shut because she doesn't trust herself* 

A/N: *mrfl mrfl* *holds up sign that says "Behold! The longest chapter I've ever written in my life!"* 

************************************************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 108

  
  


Work had been, somehow, bearable today. 

For the first time in years, he'd worked a full shift, rather than goofing off for the majority of one, or letting the stress of being cooped up in the box get to him. By ten o'clock, he'd found himself completely finished with all the tasks that he did on a daily basis, all the grants that needed approval and projects that needed funding by twelve, and three o'clock had found him deep in the company's budget, freeing up funds for the more expensive divisions and for projects that he'd been wanting to get underway for years. 

At three-fifteen, his mother had walked in and taken a serious interest in his sanity. 

He sighed, dropping the for-once-empty briefcase onto his dresser, yanking off his tie and setting it on top. 

He'd consulted the Sock Puppet of Smelly Death today about his problems, and the Sock had dutifully informed him that he worried too much, worked too hard, really _did_ need an assistant, and that He was hungry and the Xerox machine was threatening to eat hapless employees alive and destroy original documents unless its faithful priestess was returned. 

Trunks sighed and hung up his blazer, dropping his shirt into the hamper. 

Pan. 

He wouldn't deny that her flight had upset him, but he also was also relieved to have finally said something. 

Yes, the look of dawning that held neither horror nor hope that had spread across her face had been disconcerting. But the fear that had seemed to grip her hadn't been one of disgust or at the mere thought of him thinking that she might have felt the same. Try as he might, he couldn't place what that fear had been for, and he'd tried all day Sunday as he had helped his mother and sister clean up after the party. 

Hanging up his slacks and grabbing an old pair of worn and stained jeans from a shelf he'd built into the closet a few summers ago, he shook his head, stepping easily into the heavy denim, careful not to shove his foot through the hole in the right knee. 

After he'd told her, Pan had smiled nervously, her eyes darting away, fingers giving his a tight squeeze, and mumbled something about her parents waiting before leaving him there, walking away with a hand raised to her head, fingers barely touching her forehead as she seemed to stumble away, back straight and her steps stiff. His father had walked up to him, standing beside him as she slowed before Gohan, who looked at her worriedly and then back at him, a meek, thin-lipped smile on his face. And then the Sons had left, Goten watching his niece with something akin to disappointment before throwing a wave and walking off. 

No one else seemed to have noticed what had gone on between them. Bra had run over to say good-bye to her, but she'd stopped as Pan walked right by, not seeming to see her. 

"I'll see to your mother and sister," his father had said quietly, their eyes never meeting. And in the day and a half since, neither Bulma nor Bra had said anything, though there was a mild air of curiosity about the house. 

Trunks sighed and walked downstairs, picking up the planks of sheetrock, the can of plaster, and the palate knife he'd left by the front door. Setting them next to the wall that had once separated the stairway from the living room, he turned stood and headed downstairs to his mother's playroom, pulling a tarp from a storage cabinet and a straightedge from a workbench. 

"Trunks?" 

He paused, level on top of the cabinet, hands pulling the tarp from within. He glanced over to where his mother was emerging from behind one of her contraptions. 

"I thought I heard someone else in here." She paused, wiping her hands on her shirt, leaving spots of grease on a shirt that had to be as old as he was. "What are you doing in here, Hun? How long have you been home? You weren't here when I got home…" 

He shrugged, pulling out the tarp and closing the cabinet. "I stopped to have my windshield replaced and ducked into a hardware store while I waited. I want to fix that wall since I'm home." 

She smiled. "There are some 2x4's in the back if you need any." She paused and then set her hand on his arm as he reached up and grabbed the straightedge. "Sweetie, I don't know what happened at your sister's party, but whatever it was, it's probably for the best." 

He smiled and turned, giving her a one armed hug. 

She smiled as he let go, opening her mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the doorbell. 

"Wonder who that could be?" she mused quietly, then shook her head. "I'll get that. You fix my wall." 

He shook his head as she wandered off, then moved back to find boards to replace the studs he had destroyed. A few minutes later found him back on the main floor, two 2x4s slung over a shoulder, tarp under an arm, red metal toolbox swinging freely in his hand. 

"_She's still at work right now, but I don't think she would mind if you went into her room_," he heard his mother say to whoever was at the front door. 

"_Thanks. I'll only be a minute or two._" 

"_Take your time, Sweetie._" 

Trunks crouched, rolling the 2x4s from his shoulder and setting them on floor, shaking out the tarp and stomping it lightly against the wall, careful to keep his workboots from touching the clean plaster. Shaking his hand a little, he warmed a little of his ki into his fingertips, holding the level straight against the remaining wall until it was parallel to the floor before running his fingers along the plaster, using his energy as a knife, carefully cleaning the remaining sheetrock on this side of the wall into straight line. 

"Pan's here," his mother said quietly, setting a trashcan near him as he started on the lower end of the hole. "She came to get the clothes she left here Saturday night." 

He nodded mutely; he'd had a pretty good idea who was at the door before he'd even reached the top of the stairs. As much as he wanted to talk to her, to find out what he'd done wrong, what had caused that response, he was willing to let it die; he wasn't looking forward to seeing her anytime soon. 

"You know, Trunks," his mother said, picking up a few pieces of plaster from the ground, dropping them into the receptacle, "I've pushed you into working hard for the last few years, but I never really realized how much you hated it. If you think an assistant would take some of the weight from your shoulders, maybe even allow you to be home more often…" 

He nodded, struggling to get the little bubble in the center of the old yellow level to line up. "It would. Especially with weeks like last week, when the new fiscal year's getting back underway and there are hundreds of clients all vying for mass production and more money. Or when the research facilities are overbooked or understaffed or so confused that they need someone to hold their hands. I know that cutting back my hours is impossible right now, but it at least might let me free up some of the hours that I'm there so that I might be able to start some of those projects I've been wanting to do for a long time." 

Blue hair bobbed in the corner of his eye as he checked the level, the bubble finally seeming to cooperate. 

"Do you think Pan would…" 

He shook his head. "She hated it in there. And while most of the employees miss her, and today's ambassador of the fanclub looked disappointed at the fact that there wasn't going to be any competition for my attention, it's still her choice. And I don't think she wants an office job." 

Bulma looked at him curiously, something seeming to fall into place in her eyes. Shaking out his fingers once more, he looked up at her through his hair, almost challenging her to say something. 

"I guess what I'm asking you is if _you'd_ want her there." 

He looked back to the wall, jaw clenched, shoulders taut. He forced himself to calm down before he charged his ki into his finger tips once more and started to clean away the torn plaster. Beside him, his mother shifted awkwardly. He lifted his fingers from the wall and closed his eyes. 

"It's her decision," he managed, quite proud that he managed to keep the bitterness of her flight from his voice. He didn't move until he heard his mother sigh and walk away. Only then did he open his eyes and allow himself to stare dejectedly at the wall. 

He didn't _want_ to hate her, or be mad at her; it wasn't necessarily _her_ fault if she didn't feel the same way as he did. But just the same, she could have said something. She could have offered him a least a smile. Maybe she was just confused, or was scared of getting close to him. 

Or maybe… 

"You know, when Bra told me you'd put a hole in the wall, she didn't say anything about it being the size of a door." 

Trunks blinked as the small voice reached him, looking up from where he was hedging away the debris. He was first met with white socks, but white socks couldn't talk-at least, _most_ white socks-so he looked farther up, past the blue jeans and the orange shirt, to the face that looked down at him almost sheepishly, like she felt she had no right to say anything. 

He blinked and shrugged, looking back down at what he was doing, feeling quite dead inside, though his heart still beat. He didn't know what was worse-the death he had suffered this time last week, when his heart had died as well, leaving him completely empty, or this. 

On the other side of the wall, Pan heaved a quiet sigh and sat down, lightly hugging her knees. 

"You must have been pretty mad at me last weekend," she said, trying again to get him to say something. 

Coughing lightly, he relented, some little voice in his ear telling him that she was setting aside her pride and was trying to say something he might want to hear. Regardless that he'd done the same and she'd only run away. It was finally time he act his age. 

All thirty-five years of it. 

"I was upset with myself," he replied, internally wincing at the monotone his voice had adapted. But so long as he wasn't being bitter, he supposed it was alright. 

Slender fingers reached down and picked away a chunk of waste before it could fall within the skeleton of the wall, tossing it past him into the trash can his mother had left. She seemed to hesitate a little before continuing. 

"You know…I'd never imagined you knew anything about carpentry." She'd forced a little bit of laughter into her voice, but it was strained, the kind of laughter that you push into a sentence to take the edge off of nervousness. 

He shrugged again, the movement a welcome relief to the taut and knotted muscles across his back and his neck. "Goten and I helped Gohan build your house years ago," he said, relenting to conversation, his voice carrying a little more inflection now, not quite as dead as before. "A way to keep us from practically killing each other on our own. After the third incident with the nailgun and the rotary saw, we weren't allowed to use anything that had more power than a hammer." 

She smiled and he sat back on his heals, looking up at her as he set aside the level. She wore her bandana for once, two pigtail braids snaking down onto either side of her neck. The picture of her and Jack flashed into his mind, but he forced it away. 

"Why are you here, Pan?" he asked quietly. She seemed to flinch, but the movement was so miniscule that he almost missed it. Letting go of her knees, she tugged a little at the sleeves of the shirt, pulling them down over her hands. 

"I just wanted to let you know I'm leaving again." 

He nodded and turned away, opening the bright red toolbox and pulling out the tape measurer his sister had given him a couple years ago. The bright green casing had blinded him when he'd first started using it, but over time he'd come to realize that the glow-in-the-dark quality of it was especially helpful when he was crawling under one of his mother's inventions to find out what measurements were off. 

"You're good at running away," he mumbled beneath his breath, almost unaware he was speaking. 

"I'm _not_ running away," she spat vehemently, the first real emotion she'd expressed since she'd started talking. He met her glare and she caved, looking back down at her hands, tugging at the sleeves again. "Jack needs moral support and I need to figure a few things out for myself." 

He snorted, shifting his weight to pull one leg from under him, leaning onto his knee and he ran the tape across the gap. She bristled and answered the question she knew was coming. 

"He's been in love with a friend of ours for years but he's never had the courage to say anything. I'm heading back for a week or two so that maybe I can help the two of them get together." Her voice caught as if she suddenly realized what she was saying and she looked away again. "I mean…um…well, I know she pretty much feels the same way about him but has too much pride to admit it." 

"Is this supposed to be some sort of metaphor?" he snapped, resisting the urge to throw down the tape measurer. Blue eyes bore into the side of her face. "Is this conversation supposed to-" 

Her head whirled back around to face him and she glared down at his face. "What the hell are you talking about? A _meta_phor? Trunks, Jack wants to marry Molly but Molly is too terrified of getting hurt." 

He met her stare dead on, taking a small victory when she snorted and looked away, hands white-knuckled on her knees. "You sound a lot like your uncle right now," he grumbled, standing and pulling out the tape to mark the top of the gap. 

She said nothing, and he ground his teeth. 

"You're really not the one to be giving anyone moral support about this sort of thing anyways," he continued, hands overhead, working mechanically. 

Pan growled, but didn't dispute him. "You make it sound like I did that intentionally. You scared me shitless. What the fuck was I supposed to do, Trunks?" 

She wasn't really asking him, but was asking the wall that wasn't there. A corner of his mouth twitched, but he didn't give into the smirk; instead, he gave up with the wall and tossed the tape down to rest at his feet. 

"You know, I'd really wish you'd make up your mind, Pan, you know that?" 

All the vehemence seemed to drain right out of her and she looked at him, almost naively. He resisted the urge to start laughing with sardonic mirth. 

"What? What are you talking about, make up my mind?" 

He caught her gaze, eye to eye without stooping. Despite the tension that was roiling within him, he was relaxed-if he was any more relaxed, he'd call himself defeated. 

"You sit and you complain and complain about being nothing but a tomboy. That none of us see you the way you are or as anything more than what you'd always been. About how you want someone to wake up and see you. But when somebody finally does, you throw it back in his face and act like it never happened." 

The shock on her face was somewhere between indignant and honestly surprised. If it weren't for the curl in her lower lip, he'd almost feel sorry for what he'd said. But the truth was, he'd stopped feeling. He'd had enough of her pity trips. 

"_What?!_" 

He stared at her pointedly, blue eyes boring into blue. After a moment, he turned away. "You're not worth it," he muttered to himself and moved to leave the room. Leave the house. Find some innocent and inanimate object to pound out his pent up frustrations on. 

"Make up my mind?" she cried, getting up and staring after him as if he'd truly wounded her. "Make up _my_ mind?!" She hesitated as her voice filled the house, but then shook her head and stormed after him, following him into the kitchen where his mother was making herself a sandwich. 

"Yes Pan," he replied curtly as he tried to continue through the kitchen to the back door. He could feel her fuming in the doorway behind him, could almost imagine her there with tight fists and indignant rage. 

"_You're_ one to talk!" she spat after him as he started through the other door. Between them, at the sink, his mother was looking back and forth like a trapped wild animal, both of them blocking the only means of escape. "How can you expect me to believe you when you literally _dumped_ me into the sand last weekend? One minute you don't want me and the next you do?! _Who_ needs to make up their mind, Trunks?" 

He whirled, framed in the doorway, just as angry as she was at this point. 

"Don't tell me-Saturday was your version of petty revenge, right?" 

"I certainly wish I'd thought of that _then_!" she cried back, her face white with anger, hands held away from her sides as she stood there stiffly. "But I'm not as _petty_ as you, asshole!" 

He shook, angrily, hands clenching into fists at his own sides, hackles raised. He set one foot forward and leaned on it, a stance he'd unconsciously adopted from his father. 

"Me? Petty? Name one petty thing I've done to you since you came home, Pan." 

"Fear my father," she snapped, shoulders hunched up and slightly behind her. 

"You're one to talk-what the fuck are _you_ so afraid of? You walked away like you'd just seen someone die!" 

She trembled a little. Between them, Bulma armed herself with a butter knife, trying to pretend she wasn't listening as she nervously smeared mustard and mayonnaise onto bread. 

"How the hell was I sup_pose_d to act, Trunks? Ecstatic? Morose? _What._" 

"Your _age_, maybe?" he retorted. She bristled immediately. 

"Oh, so I was supposed to throw myself into your arms and start crying over and over that I love you? It's a big word Trunks, one that can completely carry the fate of a human being!" 

He ground his teeth, eyes flashing. "I think I'm _perfectly_ aware of that, _Pan_." He trembled a little, eyes glazed over red. "_Trust_ me, I know how completely _world_ shattering that word can be. _First hand_." 

She threw up her hands in frustration. 

"Ex_cuse_ me! I don't even know what the word means?" 

"Then how do you have such insight into _other_ people, Pan? How can you know how others feel, how deeply someone can love another, and not even have felt a little bit of it yourself?" Something changed in her stance, but he was too busy fighting down his emotions to see what it was. "And trying to help someone realize how they feel, you're only setting them up for disaster. You'll just set up the people around you and fuck around with their feelings. You've done it enough with me, and quite frankly, you're acting like a spoiled little gir-" 

He hardly saw her move. But there she was, standing before him, her hand still hovering in the air. His face stung horribly, and as he stared at her hand, he realized she'd slapped him. Slapped. Not punched him, not hit him. _Slapped_ him. 

Blinking, anger replaced by bewilderment, he looked back at her. Tears rimmed the edges of her eyes but she was too proud to cry. She looked absolutely defeated. 

She'd been trying to tell him something. But he'd been too absorbed with his own self-pity to realize it. His hands relaxed at his sides and he opened his mouth to say something, but she threw herself at him, into his chest, knocking him back into the doorway, arms wrapped lightly around him, face buried in his shirt. Stunned, he shakily lifted his arms, still staring at where her face had been. At the betrayal that had been in her eyes. Almost unaware of himself, his arms circled her gently. He could feel her tears against his chest, her hands clenching at the thin cotton of the wife beater, her body shaking against him. 

Slowly, he came back to himself, the bewilderment leaving his eyes, his arms shifting around her, tightening around her into a real hug. He looked to his mother, who stood by the sink, face white, hands shaking, still clutching the butter knife. But she smiled supportively, slinking quietly from the room, butter knife in one hand, sandwich in the other. 

He looked down at Pan, then let all of the startled anger drain away, and buried his face into her hair. 

And cried. 

*****************************************************  
A/N: And now we know why I labelled this "angst". *shifts awkwardly* God this chapter and the next two (last two) were hard to write. Anyways, um...yeah...I just had to give Bulma the butter knife. The image was too perfect, I couldn't resist. 

Reviews? 

-Panabelle ;P  
_ All will be explained in time. And time is all but gone._


	110. Chapter 109: Content

Disclaimer: You know, in 109 chapters and a prologue, I've _yet_ to actually give a real disclaimer. 

A/N: Well, this is it. The last two chapters. Forgive me if I'm not too chatty. 

**************************************************  
Petrified Tears  
chapter 109

  
  


They leaned against the wall in the kitchen, deadpan faces and tired hearts, the setting sun casting them in red and yellow shadows. Trunks propped his arms on his knees, staring at the tile between his feet. Beside him, Pan hugged her legs, playing absently with her bandana, focusing every ounce of her attention on twining the old fabric between her fingers. 

"I'm sorry," she whispered quietly. He glanced over at her, offering her a troubled smile, as if to say it was alright. 

"I know. It's not your fault." 

They lapsed back into silence, sitting like statues, carvings of stone. Unmoving. Someone moved into the kitchen, got something out of the fridge. Turned to look at them curiously before sensing the tension and hurrying into the living room. 

The silence stretched on, taking too long. It was unbearable-words needed to be said. But it was worse when someone spoke. 

Trunks watched the shadows of the clouds as they moved across the wall, drifting through a sea of crimson and orange. He sighed silently and leaned his head back against the wall. 

"When does your flight leave?" he whispered to the ceiling, eyes staring straight up but seeing nothing. 

"Tomorrow morning," she mumbled in response. 

He hauled his head back up, looking down at her as she sat there huddled between him and the corner, scared and small, drained of everything. Blindly, his hand sought hers, grasping it clumsily, gently pulling it away from the bandana. Fingers gripped his tightly, refusing to let go, but her hand and arm were limp. Smiling to himself, he let their hands rest on the ground between them. His gaze moved back to the window. 

"Trunks?" 

He blinked and looked back at her. She hadn't looked at him once since he'd convinced them both to sit down, had only stared at her hands, pulling off her bandana and using it to distract herself, unbraiding her hair to hide behind. 

"I'm…I really wish…I mean…" 

His face softened into a smile. "It's alright Pan." 

"No…I really…" She drew in a shaky breath and smiled up at him. "I really wish I knew how I felt. I don't want…" 

He smiled and let go of her hand, wrapping an arm around her, letting her huddle against him. 

"It's alright, Pan," he whispered into her ear. After a moment of shy hesitation, he pressed his lips to her temple. "I understand." 

She didn't say anything, moving her head on his shoulder until she was comfortable. She'd folded her arms across her stomach and now her fingers searched for his, intertwining in an awkward way that somehow felt right. 

"How long do you think you'll be gone?" 

"Not long I hope…I…" she paused for a moment, shifting against him again, looking blandly at his chest. "We were a trio for three years. Did almost everything together. Jack and I both know it wouldn't be right if I wasn't there for Molly to freak out on. And I need to figure myself out…I don't…I don't think it will take nearly as long as four years…but…" 

He nodded. "Just don't disappear on me again, Panny, alright? Not like before?" 

She looked up at him, smiling timidly. He smiled back, pushing her hair from her eyes. 

"If I do I can't keep the dress Grandma gave me," she replied, a tired attempt a humor. He squeezed her with a quiet chuckle, letting his hand fall into his lap. The silence was tolerable now, not quite so pregnant anymore. For a while he'd thought she'd fallen asleep, but she shifted again, wrapping two arms around him, tucking her legs against his with the self-conscious movements of the wide awake. 

"What are we?" she whispered into his shoulder as he shifted his arm around her, letting his hand rest against her hip. 

"Alive," he replied, only to feel her fidget in response. 

"No I mean…what _are_ we?" 

Trunks blinked, looking down into blue eyes that never seemed to end. He smiled and pushed a lock of hair from her eyes. 

"What do you want to be, Panno?" he asked gently. 

Her eyes moved away and a quiet blush glissed across her cheeks and nose. She closed her eyes, nuzzling her nose into his shoulder. Slowly, her eyes opened, her voice small but curiously strong. 

"With you." 

Trunks blinked, surprised, his face soft but still blank. He shifted his weight, turning against the wall to face her better, his own legs tucking up a little to cradle her against him. 

She blushed again and gripped at his shirt, unable to meet his eyes but still looking up at him. His hand lifted, cupping the side of her face, his thumb gently and slowly stroking the soft skin at the corner of her eye. Her face was warm, but more from her own body heat than from the blush that was already fading. He smiled, kissing her forehead before dropping his face near hers, sitting forehead to forehead, his arm sliding back around her waist, holding her just to hold her. 

"I never in a million lifetimes thought you'd say that," he whispered, his eyes looking directly into hers. "Thought that you'd want that." 

"I've wanted it for a long time," she admitted, meeting his gaze shyly. "I just never let myself do more than dream about it." 

He smiled, closing his eyes, satisfied in feeling her so close to him, content in just knowing that he could have a few days with her, that for a little while at least, she'd be his. Content didn't always mean happy, but he was. He could be, with her. 

Her hand lighted on his arm, fingers drawing lazy patterns on his bare skin. He felt her eyelashes brush against him as her eyes closed, felt her breathe beneath his fingertips. He opened his eyes, brushed his nose against hers. She smiled, silent laughter on her lips as she peeked up at him through her lashes. He nuzzled her nose again, his heart pounding with the knowledge that she would even let him, that she was letting him. Pan laughed with him, shifting to press a kiss to the end of his nose, blushing lightly but too happy to realize it. 

He pulled her closer, tucking his face against hers, just for a moment, before soft skin brushed against his lips, featherlight and hesitant. All too soon the sensation passed, adrenalin rushing through his bloodstream as he looked down at her, her head resting against his shoulder, eyes closed, as if she didn't want to see his reaction, the only proof that he hadn't imagined it the slight smile on her lips. 

He smiled, settling back against the wall in his former position, two arms wrapped around her. With a sigh, he rested his head on top of hers.

  



	111. Epilogue: Dreams

Disclaimer: I lay no claim to Dragonball/z or gt, nor any of the characters mentioned wherein. Molly, Jack, and the Sock Puppet of Smelly Death are copyright me, 2001, 2002, 2003. 

A/N: Figured it was about time I did that. *sniffs* This is it...my baby's all growed up and on her own now.... 

*******************************************************  
Petrified Tears  
epilogue

  
  


They slept peacefully in the moonlight, curled up against each other, lightly holding each other in slumber. A light breeze moved in through the open kitchen window, moving invisible fingers through hair, trailing after it as a lover might. 

She shivered, waking him slightly. He smiled, stroking the back of a finger across her cheek, pushing his hand back into strands of silken midnight. 

"I love you," he mumbled, half asleep, stroking a hand across her hair, looking down at the sleeping face that rested in his lap. 

"I think…I think I might…maybe…love you too." She yawned, a slight smile on her lips. 

He smiled through a daze as blue eyes lifted towards him, fingers scratching gently at his stomach. 

"I thought you were asleep." 

She smiled back up at him as he caught her fingers in his. "I have a thirteen hour long flight to sleep on," she murmured. Blue eyes met bluer and she sat up, leaning back against his knees, head tilted onto her shoulder. "Besides, no dream could be as sweet as this." 

He smiled at her sleepily and she reached forward, wiping away the sleep from his eyes. He caught her hand before she could and pulled her close to him, cradling her in his lap as he ran his hands through her hair. 

"What if I want my dreams in the morning?" he asked her. A slight frown hinted on his lips. "They might be all I'll have." 

She smiled and snuggled against him as he played with her hands, searching for scars that were mostly healed. 

"Someone else might need this dream," she mumbled. "Someone else who cries at night." Arms wrapped around her and she burrowed her cheek into his shoulder. "How else will they know that some dreams are worth dreaming? That some dreams are worth wishing for?" 

He nuzzled his face against hers, slumping back against the wall. "Do you still think that the sleep in your eyes when you wake up is tears petrified by beautiful dreams?" 

She nodded, eyes closed against his, face cradled against his. "But you were right too. This world is built of dreams…sand that has been pushed into something harder, into something that we can build upon. The oceans…the shattered dreams…they're embraced by dreams worth dreaming…that's why we cry petrified tears at night. So that the beauty of them can't be destroyed by the nightmares and whatever else that tries to destroy them. Proof that our dreams always will be there. Supporting us when no one else will." 

His arms tightened around her, holding her close against him. 

"I'll never let you fall," he murmured, half asleep. 

"I know you won't," she mumbled sleepily. "You were my dream…"

  



End file.
